Borne From The Sea: Annie's Journey
by ramsc
Summary: Annie Cresta was put in the Academy at nine years old, and she has one dream-to win the Games like her best friend, Finnick Odair. This is her journey-when she was 12 she watched Finnick win, and five years later, she's determined to win the 70th Hunger Games. But will falling in love with her district partner hold her back? Will go until MJ. All rights to Suzanne Collins! R&R :)
1. Chapter 1

I am in the Academy's gym when he wins, scaling the rock wall. It's early in the morning on a Sunday. Two nights ago, a sponsor sent in the most expensive gift the Hunger Games had ever seen: a shiny silver trident. Since then, he made quick work of the remaining tributes. The dense forest arena was rigged with his nets, and he had killed six of the remaining ten tributes in the first 24 hours since he received it. The girl from District 2 eliminated two of them. I scoff when I see his final opponent trapped in one of his nets, legs dangling through the holes. _I wonder who taught him to net like that,_ I think sarcastically.

The girl from District 2 isn't so brave anymore. She heard the cannon go off when Finnick killed the boy from 7. In fact, she's crying and begging Finnick to spare her. But he doesn't. He walks up to her, face blanker than ever, and throws the trident through her chest. I only see a hint of regret in his eyes as he retrieves the trident and Claudius Templesmith announces the victor of the 65th Hunger Games. As the hovercraft picks him up, I tally his kills from the arena. He slit the girl from District 12's throat on the first day. Three kills with the spear—the girl from District 10, the boy from 8, and the boy from 3. In that order. Then came his eight kills with the trident. Both tributes from 5, the boy from 6, both tributes from 7. He killed his district partner, Meredith. The girl from District 1 and the girl from 2. All three were his former allies. Until the trident came.

I do what I've been taught to do here at the Academy; shove away any feelings I have as I scale the wall. Meredith, blonde hair, blue eyes. The life disappearing from her eyes. My brother knew her.

But I laugh as I think of the girl from District 2. Making herself seem bloodthirsty in her interview, calling herself a gladiator. Crying for her mother as Finnick's trident flies through the air. Pathetic. Twelve kills total. They say his were the best in Games history.

I scoff at my best friend now, but I know there's a reason he won. He was chosen by the Academy at the age of fourteen, which was unheard of. Almost all of the tributes coming out of the Academy are chosen when they're eighteen. Three were chosen at seventeen, two at sixteen. And Finnick was chosen at fourteen.

Angry, I push myself further up the wall. I vow to train longer and fight harder so I can be selected in five years. Maybe four, if I'm lucky.

_"Annie," he calls. I roll my eyes, but turn around. He was two years older than me, so I had to listen to him._

_ "Is there something you want, Odair?" I scowl at him, and he just shrugs it off._

_ "I saw some of your nets when I was down at the pier with my parents yesterday."_

_ "Who said they were mine?"_

_ "Your dad," he answers._

_ "Yes, well. I wasn't so lucky as you. My parents couldn't afford to put me into the Academy until I was nine. Unlike you. I had to work on my parents boat until they opened their store, so yes, I net." I say all of this with no small amount of bitterness in my voice. District 4 was a rich district, but my parents still had to work to put me through the Academy. Finnick's were just rich._

_ "You should teach me."_

_ "No," I respond._

_ "Come on, I can teach you something in return." I'm still scowling, but I lift my eyebrows, curious._

_ "Like what, Odair?" If an instructor was around, I would be chided for my lack of respect. But there isn't._

_ "Hand to hand. Spears. I noticed on your score sheet that you were struggling in those two areas."_

_ "And why do you want to learn how to net?" I ask skeptically, but really, it's a good deal. I could use some work in hand to hand combat and spears._

_ "I'm taking my Games practical next year. And if I score high enough, I may be selected to volunteer." His eyes, the same color as the ocean, plead with me. But I'm distracted. Games practical? Already?_

_ "They're letting you take the practical? You're only thirteen, Finnick." My voice is gentler now. He doesn't mention that I address him by his first name and not his last. And neither do I._

_ "I know."_

I wonder if he forgot. I pace around restlessly, the sand creeping between my toes. It's Saturday, six days after he was pulled from the arena. He arrived back today, and now I'm here. Waiting.

I wait for another hour before I decide that I look desperate. Maybe this isn't our spot anymore. I should leave. My parents are expecting me home tonight anyways. I come back every night from the Academy, but my parents are used to me sleeping there sometimes. I like to train after hours. But not tonight.

I'm about to pull my toes from the surf and go home when I hear a familiar cough behind me. Refusing to believe it without seeing him, I spin around to see Finnick Odair, living legend of Panem.

"Finnick!"

"Hey, Annie," he says, smiling.

"Those were good nets. Your knife work could be better though." He laughs at me, but I notice it's a little bitter.

"Always the coach. Annie Cresta, master of knives."

"How were the Games?"

"Fine," he says, but his eyes tell me differently. His eyes tell me that they were terrible, and I want to laugh and cry at the same time. The Games are my dream, but Finnick's eyes tell me they shouldn't be.

"So what will you do now?" I ask, curious how he'll fill his time. He doesn't have to attend regular school, not that he ever did, his presence obviously isn't required at the Academy anymore, and he doesn't have to work.

"Train future tributes. Work on a talent. Fish. I don't know."

"Well, if you want to fish, at least you have the net skills for it now," I say, superior. He grins widely, and the smile finally reaches his eyes.

"Wanna swim?" He asks me, his voice playful. I laugh out loud.

"Why else do you think I met you down here?"

We race to the sandbar, we bet who can dive deeper, hold their breath longer, do the best backflips. Finnick and I are creatures borne from the sea, and he's finally home. I resurface to find him back at shore already.

Finnick watches me as I walk out of the ocean. He is leaning back on his elbows, sand smudging his stomach, eyes focused on me and not the ocean. I flush for a moment, before remembering that this is Finnick. Finnick who, after months of netting and spear lessons, became my best friend in the world. Finnick, whose parents are friends of my parents, who taught me how to bring down someone three times my size, who showed me how to hold a spear properly. Finnick, whose heart I could put a knife through at fifty yards. Finnick, whose eyes remind me of my favorite place in the world, whose eyes have watched twelve children die by his own hand.


	2. Chapter 2

The Main Center of the Academy is absolutely massive. Main Center holds most weapons' training that is done at the Academy: Spears, knives, tridents, archery, swords, and axes. You can practice with any weapon you want, but you're only guaranteed instruction in those six categories. Each station is enclosed in glass, and equipped with stationary dummies and mobile dummies, which can be adjusted for size and strength. It's common knowledge at the Academy that the Capitol secretly puts funds towards the Academy in 4—even though it's technically illegal—as well as the training centers for the trainees in 1 and 2. We are the three districts that not only accept the Hunger Games, but are enthusiastic about them as well. So the Capitol funds us to give them strong tributes that want to play the game.

The Academy, built on a small cliff overlooking the ocean, is located all on one floor. Branching off from the Main Center is what they call the Living Center. The Living Center contains dormitories and a cafeteria, both available for students twenty-four hours a day. It's part of the tuition our parents pay to send us here. At random intervals in the hallway by the dormitories are private training rooms, equipped with dummies.

In a large section opposite the dormitories is the Survival Center. In the Survival Center, we're trained to recognize edible plants, make fires, build shelters, make traps and snares, and any other skills the instructors think would help you survive in the arena. Not very many students train in the Survival Center past what the Academy makes mandatory. The Academy is about learning to kill. Not survive.

The third branch from the Main Center is the School Center. While 80% of our days at the Academy are spent training for the Hunger Games, the other 20% is learning math, science, English, and the history of Panem. It's horribly dull, but it's required.

The last branch is the most important—the Games Center. The Games Center is where selected students take their Games practical. Only instructors and students who are selected—and accept—to take the practical are given clearance to enter the Games Center. It's supposed to be top secret, but Finnick's told me all about the practical. First, you're given an exam that's taken on a touch screen computer. It takes your pulse to make sure you're answering honestly and not just picking what you think will get you a good score. The written exam is 100 questions. If you pass the written exam, you get to take the physical Games exam. In the actual practical, you are put in a room that simulates the Games. Finnick told me the Arena Room has a one way glass window surrounding the room, through which the reviewers can watch your mock Games. He also told me that the room is massive. It has to be to test your physical condition and skill set. The Arena Room is more technologically advanced than anything I had ever heard of, and. It comes up with an entire arena based on past arenas, and simulates tributes from each district. But these simulation tributes aren't just holograms or dummies. They look real and they feel real. The simulation tributes are based largely off of past tributes, but not entirely. The simulation tributes can make alliances. They can kill each other. You can kill them. But if they strike you with what would be a fatal blow, a red light fills the room and the exam is finished. Then, after everyone was finished, the review board would select two tributes to compete in the Games, based on their test scores and performance in the Arena Room. It takes around three days to select the tributes.

What comes next, Finnick tells me, is terrible. The selected tributes are taken to dark rooms with holographic projectors on each wall. The projectors display the bloodiest violence the Games had ever seen. A tribute eating the heart of another tribute. Dismemberment. The worst things you can imagine. And you are forced to be in the middle of it for a day. No one gives up, though. Finnick told me that the tributes understand that the Desensitizing Room is necessary before going into the Arena. To prepare the tributes mentally. To make the actual violence in the Arena more bearable. After successfully completing the Desensitizing Room, the selected tributes are given the two weeks before the Reaping off to spend with their families. The Games Center is my dream. The Games are my dream.

But I'm not living that dream at the moment. I'm not in the Games Center but in the Main Center, in my spears lesson, sweating from exertion, with Finnick screaming at me as I attempt to skewer a mobile dummy. "Cresta, adjust your grip!" I scowl at him before doing what I'm told and chucking the spear at the dummy. It pierces the dummy's heart and I smile at Finnick, panting but not annoyed with him anymore.

"Last session of the week," I say lightly as Finnick approaches. Scores come out at the end of the week, after the last student has finished their last session. It's a Friday afternoon, and I just finished the last session. Spears. Finnick is my personal instructor and handles alternate year levels of tridents. All Finnick had to do was put in my score for my spears session—because he is my personal instructor, he's required to be with me almost 24/7—and the rest of the scores for the week would be up. Everyone else in the Academy has to wait for their rankings until the last student is done.

"You killed it, Annie. I wouldn't be surprised if you ranked in the top three this week. In spears, at least," he says, giving me a devilish smile.

"You know I'll be in the top three for everything, you asshole," I shoot back, but I'm laughing. He scans his instructor card at the door of the glass room located in the Main Center. The Instructor's Room is where the instructors' desks are located. They also observe the Main Center and attend to the Score Panel, which is a machine in which all scores for the week, month, semester, and year are recorded. A student is only allowed in the Room when in the presence of an instructor. I follow Finnick to the Score Panel as he assesses the scoring rubric for spears.

He presses the tab on the screen labeled "Weapons." Under weapons, he presses "Spears," and enters my session information. Ten dummies, mobile, medium speed setting, medium skill setting. After he is done with this, he presses a button that says "No Misses," and a screen pops up that shows ten dummies. He presses his fingers to the dummies in the place that I hit them. Seven in the heart. On the eighth and ninth dummies, he presses his fingers to the neck region. On the tenth, I scowl. The stomach.

"Calm down, Annie. The stomach can be fatal if you throw hard enough," Finnick whispers gently. I look up at him and my stomach does a backflip. Finally, he enters my name and grade, and presses enter. The screen reads "Weekly Rankings Complete."

I exhale and grab his hand. He looks down, surprised, but I roll my eyes. "Calm down, Finnick," I say, mocking him. "I, unlike the rest of District Four's female population, don't want you." He pretends to be hurt, but after a moment, squeezes my hand and leads me out of the Instructor's Room. We head for the cafeteria in the Living Center to look at the rankings.

When we walk in, everyone stares at Finnick and me. I look down at our hands, still entwined, and my face turns bright red, even though it's just a friendly gesture. We've been best friends since before his Games. Best friends, nothing more.

My mind is torn from Finnick as I see the words "Scores Being Prepared" on the jumbo screens in the cafeteria. I let go of Finnick's hand as I push myself to the front of the crowd. _Please, God, let me be ranked high._ I hold my breath in as the first category appears. It's spears. Year levels flash by until my group, the thirteen year olds, appears.

SPEARS, THIRTEENS:

Blake Hadley, 10 hits, 0 misses, 10 fatal

Annie Cresta, 10 hits, 0 misses, 9 fatal

Michael Wavely 9 hits, 1 miss, 8 fatal

But I stop reading after Michael's name, because I'm elated. Second! I was expecting third or fourth, but not second! I try to contain my pride but it's hard. I find Blake across the room and he gives me a wink. I've been training with Blake for all of my five years, and we always compete for first place. But it's friendly. I like Blake a lot. He blows me a pretend kiss and I turn beet red. I've always had a bit of crush on him, even if he's just my friend. One of my best friends, actually.

Knives is the next category, and I rank first, predictably, with a girl name Nadia in second and Blake in third. The gap between my score and Nadia's is conspicuously high. I turn to Finnick and he smiles at me. Trident scores are also predictable. Blake in first, me in second, and a small girl named Hala in third. By the third or fourth year, there are a select few in each class that are better than the others, and those few monopolize the top of the rankings. Blake, Nadia, Michael, and I are some of those. People like Hala show talent in one category and train vigorously with that weapon, and hope their skill with that weapon is enough to get them to the Games practical. But it rarely is.

As you progress through the Academy, you are allowed to opt out of certain weapons courses if you show proficiency in other weapons courses. I was so good with all of the other weapons that I was allowed to drop archery this year. Thank God. Archery was never my strong suit.

I rank second in swords and first in axes, much to my surprise. My axe score almost rivals my knife score. Maybe I should train harder with the weapon.

Many people leave after the score for weapons is over, because they don't care much about survival, hand to hand combat, or regular school. But I do. Ever since Finnick himself trained me in hand to hand, I've excelled at it. And I want to be there to flaunt my score in Blake's face, as I beat him in a spar earlier this week. Predictably, I place first in hand to hand. It's good to be big and strong, but better to be small, fast, and strong. My strength is impeccable for someone my size, but I'm also quick and agile. Blake scowls as he sees that he came in second again, but I just smile over at him. He blushes a little and smiles back.

Survival skills are the only category where people that aren't best in the class can really excel. Most of us that are excellent with weapons don't pay much attention to survival skills because we don't believe we need them. I'm not one of those people. I'm good with survival, but I'm not nearly as good as some of the underdogs in my class.

Regular school just posts bland letter grade and they disappear after three seconds. Not even the instructors here care about regular school. Almost everything we have is geared towards the Games.

I find Finnick sometime after the rankings are done playing. "Excellent job, Miss Cresta," he says in his instructor voice. But he smiles at me as he says it, because I'm not just his student. He's not just my instructor. I'm elated at the scores and I need to do something to get rid of my excited energy.

"So Finny, mind staying a little later with me?

"Why?"

"I just want to throw some knives. I've got too much energy after seeing the rankings," I explain.

"That's a show I'd love to see," he chuckles. Then he nods. "Let's go."

When we arrive at the knives station in the Main Center, the only person there is the massive instructor for the eighteen year olds, Nadi. He has darker skin and green eyes, and is surprisingly pleasant to look at. I've never had Nadi as an instructor, because I'm only thirteen.

"Nadi, could you turn on the mobile dummies?" The trainer rolls his eyes at Finnick. He obviously doesn't think a thirteen year old girl needs mobile dummies. This annoys me. Had he actually been there to see the rankings, he wouldn't underestimate me.

I pick up a knife and look over my shoulder. There's a dummy behind me, about thirty yards away. Gripping the blade of the knife, I spin and release the knife halfway through my spin. Right through the neck. Good.

Nadi raises his eyebrows at me and asks my name.

"Annie Cresta. Fifth year of training. Thirteen years old." He nods, pleased with my answer. Apparently, he'll let my infraction go. I walk over to the shelves on the wall, finding my belt of six inch blades. I take my position, nod to him and say, "I want eighteen year olds, full strength." He nods and hits a green button.

The dummies are essentially robots that are soft and human like in areas that, when hit, can be fatal. The dummies also have simulation weapons that, while they can injure you, can't kill you. The approximate size and strength of an eighteen year old tribute, they move quickly. And the first one charges at me with an axe. I see the blade swing down and I shoulder roll away so I'm positioned behind him. Plunging my knife into his back, he falls forward and I immediately grab his dummy-hair and slit his throat.

I hear a cannon at the same time as I sense the spear flying towards me. Turning, I hurl the knife—the same knife I used to slit the other dummy's throat with—at the spear-thrower. The spear misses me by inches, but my knife flies straight into his heart. Seeing an archer about fifty yards away, I could easily take her out. But I decide to make it interesting. I throw one of my knives at another dummy, killing it easily, and wasting time while the archer aims at me. Laughing as I cartwheel out of the way, I land, grab another knife, and see it lodge itself into her temple. Dead.

Charging at the last dummy, I headbutt him, and while he's recovering, shove my knife into his chest, and twist. Dead, dead, dead, dead, and dead. At thirteen, I have the ability to kill five people in less than two minutes.

I sink to the ground, panting and elated. Just for fun, I chuck a knife at a stationary dummy and hear Finnick's claps.

"Impressive, little Annie," Nadi compliments, and I beam at him. Finnick, although he is smiling, has a sad look in his eyes. Perhaps it's because my knife skills far surpass his. I don't want to know. I walk over to him and he gives me a clap on the back.


	3. Chapter 3

Before I go back home, I decide to go swimming. It's only four in the afternoon, and the sun is beating down mercilessly on District 4. After making my way down from the Academy, I'm hot and exhausted. So I throw my bag down on the beach and make my way through the waves out to deeper water. My thin dress clings to me, but I don't mind. The water is warm and I think of how much I wish I could just swim all day. But training consumes most of my life.

As the water starts to become deeper, I feel my feet leave the sand and my body switches onto autopilot. I've known how to swim almost as long as I've known how to walk, but it feels more natural. My motions aren't measured and even; they're swift and powerful and violent. Nothing, not even training, make me happier than I am now. The water and me, the only two entities on this Earth.

As my body cuts through the water, I find myself wishing that Finnick didn't win the Games. Sure, he's rich and powerful and everything, but that's not all there is to life. He was happy before the Games, albeit a bit naïve. He used to smile at me and it would reach his eyes. We could be where we normally were in the year before his Games: swimming every day after training, tying knots on the beach, laughing and not caring about anything else in the world. I wish I had my best friend back, untouched.

But it will never happen. The Games did something to Finnick that I hadn't anticipated, and he was never coming back. I still love him, of course. It's just hurts that we're so different now, with the Games creating a wedge between us that was never there before. I sigh, and stop swimming. Finnick is Finnick, and I should be glad he came back at all. I tread water for a minute before I notice how far out I am. Groaning, I slowly make my way back to shore, alternating between my legs and arms because I'm so tired.

When I finally reach shore, my dress is completely soaked through. Wringing the water out of my hair, I trudge over to my bag. Walking feels unnatural after swimming. I lean down to grab my bag when I hear a whistle. I pick up my bag and slowly straighten up, expecting to see some kid whistling at me, like other times I've been at the beach. But it's just Finnick. I gulp and my heart starts beating faster. I push my dark hair out of my face and smile at him.

"Hey, Finnick," I say, when he gets closer to me. He just waves in response and I notice he looks tired.

"When are you leaving?" I ask, trying to get him to talk.

"Tomorrow." He says nothing else. He's in one of his moods where he doesn't want to talk, he just wants to sit and brood. The difference between our lives is glaringly obvious. I don't want to deal with Finnick right now. He's being short and I'm not in the mood. I try to ignore my heartbeat.

"Okay. Have fun. I'm going home." I say simply, and wave at him as I walk away. Does he really not care that much? I just tell him I'm leaving and he doesn't say a word? Whatever. Finnick's being hormonal and I don't have to deal with him. But my eyes are stinging and I'm confused. Finnick is just my friend. I shouldn't care. I don't care.

For the rest of my walk home, I try to keep Finnick from my mind. I look out at the ocean, blue in the sunlight, and kick every seashell that I see. Anything to be distracted.

When I get home, I knock on the door before I open it. My brothers are laying on the couches in the living room, watching some Capitol program on TV. When he sees me, Dylan jumps up from the couch and engulfs me in a hug. I laugh and hug him back, totally forgetting Finnick.

"How's training, seashell?" I laugh at his use of my old nickname, and punch him lightly in the shoulder.

"It's fine. Only a few more years to go and I'll be ready." Dylan claps me on the back. Dylan trained for the Games and was selected for the Games practical when he was eighteen, the same year Finnick was. He lost to Finnick by only a few points. But he doesn't mind. To be honest, I think Dylan didn't want to be selected. He was offered a job at the Academy, but he declined and chose to work for our parents instead. The Games weren't his dream like they are mine. After all, he was only at the Academy for three years before he was selected.

"I doubt you'll be able to take me even when you're a victor," Murdoch calls from the couch. I roll my eyes. Unlike Dylan and me, Murdoch never trained for the Games. Not officially. While Dylan is twenty, six years older than me, Murdoch is twenty-two. My parents had only saved enough for my tuition and Dylan's by the time I was nine, Dylan fifteen. By then, Murdoch only had one year left in the Reaping. And Dad had trained us all unofficially before that.

"Oh shut up, Murry. You've never seen me throw a knife before," I say, but I'm joking. "Are you ever going to get off that sofa, Murry?"

"Nope," he replies, popping the P. So I run to the couch and jump on him. He tries to take a swing at me, but I block it with my forearm and twist his arm behind him. With the other arm, I jam my forearm into his windpipe. I cackle evilly at him and take my arm off his throat.

"Jesus, Ann," he wheezes. "It was just a joke."

"I don't take jokes," I say coyly. "So take it back."

"Whatever, I take it back. You better save me the best bedroom when you live on Victor's Island." I laugh and hug him tightly. When I isolate myself at the Academy, like I sometimes do for days at a time, I miss my brothers terribly. They're extensions of myself that I could never live without.

"Where are mom and dad?" I ask, noticing their absence for the first time.

"At the pier, I think. They were getting something for dinner. Mom didn't feel like cooking," Murdoch answers.

"Oh."

"So what's the status with you and Odair, Ann?" Dylan asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I blush, and try to avoid answering.

"The same status as always, isn't it?" I say indifferently. I don't want to talk about Finnick, not at all.

"Oh, shut up, Annie! You're always together _and_ he requested to be your personal instructor. You're only fourteen, he should be instructing someone older. You know, since he's a victor and everything," Dylan finishes lamely. I shrug, trying to be indifferent. I don't know what Finnick and I are. We're best friends, attached at the hip. We can't be anything more. Finnick, Golden Boy of the Capitol, and Annie Cresta, District 4 trainee. Not a good match.

"No, Dylan. Just friends," I say, but my voice is shaking. Since when has my friendship with Finnick not been enough for me?

"Whatever you say, Annie. You're pretty enough for him," Murdoch cuts in. "He'll see sense in a few years, when you win the Games."

I guess Murdoch is right about me being pretty. I have dark, long hair that waves naturally, and is incredibly thick. My cheekbones on my face are high and stand out, my nose is small and has a perfect slope, my eyes are large and slant upwards, and my lips are pink and full. Murdoch's right. I'm pretty. But pretty enough for Finnick? I don't know.

"Seashell? You gonna come back to us?" Dylan waves a hand in front of my face, and I slap it away on instinct. Before I say anything, though, my parents come through the front door, and I run to my father.

"Hi, dad," I say while I bury my face in his chest.

"Hi, honey. How's training going?"

"Good. Only second in a couple categories. First in all the rest." He raises his eyebrows at me, and I know he wants me to continue. "First in knives, hand to hand combat, spears, survival, and axes—"

"Axes? Seriously? How did you manage that?" My mother cuts in coldly.

"I guess I just have a talent with them. I'm almost as good with axes as I am with knives." My mother gives me a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes, and I try not to grimace.

"I'm second in tridents and swords. But that's it."

"Good job, sweetie. We're so proud of you."

"Can we stop talking about training now?" My dad sighs, but nods. When I come home, he wants to grill me about training and make sure I'm doing well. But training has gotten to a point where I stay at the Academy from Monday to Friday, and only come home on the weekends. I want to enjoy being home, not talk about training the entire time. It's exhausting.

"What's for dinner?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Mercer's had beef in from District 10, so we bought a casserole. Beef, corn, peas, green beans, with potatoes on top. Dax said it was delicious."

"Well, it sounds delicious," I say to my mother, Cora. She didn't want me to train, initially. But then my father made her see sense. Better to be completely prepared for the Games than be like the outlying districts, who are weak and unprepared. She gave in eventually, but is cold at times, because she doesn't like the Games. My mother's a gentle person, but so is my father, Marlin. My father is tough, from his years at sea, but gentle when it comes to me. He just wanted me to be prepared. Wanted me to help bring honor to the District. I know he's doing it for the right reasons, although he can be a bit overzealous.

We sit down at the table, and I completely devour the casserole my parents brought home. I'm exhausted and famished from my swim, and the beef is a welcome change from the chicken and assortments of fish we have at the Academy. I lean back in my chair and groan, feeling heavy and bloated.

"Mom, can we watch a movie?" I whine. At the Academy, we never get to watch anything on TV other than old Hunger Games and Capitol propaganda. My mother and father have a television set and they watch old movies the Capitol allows District 4 to broadcast. They don't show them at the Academy because it's distracting. Only old Games.

"Yes, sweetie. Find the movie channel and see what's playing tonight, Annie," my mom says from inside the refrigerator.

So I do. I find that the movie channel is playing a movie about some war in the past. The war was way before the Dark Days, before Panem, even. I think the Capitol shows movies like this to remind us that life was terrible before Panem. And it certainly seems like it was. Mom brings Dylan, Murdoch, and me hot chocolate while my dad makes sarcastic comments about the movie to me. On days like this, I'm grateful for the life I have. My family, the Academy, the ocean, District 4, and Finnick. I'm lucky by anyone's standards. I drink my hot chocolate and laugh at my father and eventually, I fall asleep on the couch. That night, I dream of the sea, and the smiles of my family. But mostly, I dream of Finnick.


	4. Chapter 4

_One Year Later—Annie is 15_

"Finnick, come on." We're arguing, like we've been doing incessantly lately. The sun is setting, and my back leans against the concrete wall.

"No, Annie. I may be your best friend, but I'm also your instructor. And I say no. You aren't ready."

"If I really wasn't ready, I wouldn't have been recommended by _every single other instructor. _Finnick, even the swords teacher recommended me! Come on!"

"Cresta, I don't care who recommended you. I'm your spear trainer and I am your personal instructor. I get the final say in the matter. My answer is still no. You are not ready." Standing up, I kick him in the stomach and walk away.

"Annie!" Finnick yells after me, but I ignore him. All of my instructors, except Finnick, have recommended me to take the Games practical. He says that I'm not ready, but that's a lie. I, along with three eighteen year olds and two seventeen year olds, have been assessed to have the skills to potentially win the Games. It's a huge achievement, especially for a fifteen year old. I could be the next Finnick Odair. If only the real one would let me go. I kick a seashell with my bare feet as I walk away.

Suddenly, I'm grabbed by the shoulder and spun around. I react violently, pressing my forearm into his neck while the other hand holds his head steady. If this were the Games, I could kill him now. But it isn't the Games. It's Finnick.

"Don't creep up on me like that, Odair. I know how to kill," I say flatly.

He ignores me. I ignore the electricity in my body that stems from his closeness. Finnick's face is only inches from mine. I glance up at him, trying to conceal the emotions bubbling wildly to the surface. Haven't I dreamed of this for a year? Haven't I wished Finnick would look at me the way he is now?

"Careful, Odair. I'm just district trash," I say, but very quietly. I know he won't appreciate me taking a jab at his forced prostitution in the Capitol. It was a low blow, and I know it. But he doesn't say anything. He just looks at me beseechingly, his hands gripping my uppers arms so tight it begins to hurt. I don't say anything.

"You're anything but," he whispers, and all of a sudden, his lips are on mine and I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't do anything. I can't say that I don't want this, because I do. Ever since he cried on the beach last year, I've wanted this. But I've drowned it in training, in knives and spears and physical conditioning, praying that the feelings would go away. But they haven't. And I'm glad they haven't.

His hands are on my neck and I slowly begin to respond, touching his chest, then his neck and finally tangling them in his hair. He tastes like the ocean, like salt and water and seaweed and wide open skies.

He whispers my name against my lips and I pull him closer. I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him violently towards me. I pull him too hard, because we topple over onto the sand, but he doesn't stop. His mouth is on mine immediately, and I feel the sand rubbing against my back, but I don't want him to stop.

"Annie, you can't go, not yet. Please, don't go. Next year or the year after. Please, just wait." His eyes look glossy and wet as he whispers to me, and I feel the old argument coming again. But I shove it down, and tell him that I won't, just as long as he keeps kissing me. I tell him that I'll keep training, and he doesn't stop kissing me. Not for the rest of the night.

_ "Annie." I hear whispers outside my window. I wake up, groggy and confused, until I realize I'm in my room at my parent's house. It's the weekend. And Finnick is outside. He taps lightly, and I tell him to wait. Slipping into the bathroom, I find a long green scarf to wrap around my neck. It's December, and it's only 50 degrees outside. Stepping into some brown boots, I walk outside quietly._

_ "Odair? What's wrong?" I ask, hurrying towards him. He doesn't answer me. "Should we go to our regular spot?" The seawall by the Justice Building. The seawall was reconstructed after the Dark Days—it is the only safe place in District 4 during hurricanes, because the seawall was built taller and stronger than the last one. Fifty feet tall and made with reinforced concrete, it's withstood storms and tsunamis._

_ His eyes dart around wildly. "No, anywhere but there. Anywhere else, Annie." So I lead him to my favorite place in District 4. There is a large pier that goes out into the ocean, shooting off from the old seawall. Our history books tell us that, before Panem, it had things called 'roller coasters' on it. But now, it's where the town square is. Where the Reaping is._

_ We settle in under the pier. The tide is low, so we scoot out further than usual to dip our toes in the water._

_ "Annie," he whispers again. His eyes find mine and I appreciate, not for the first time, how much he's matured since he won the Games two years ago._

_ "Yes?" My stomach churning. I have no idea what he'll tell me. Maybe I've been kicked out of the Academy for punching my conditioning instructor in the stomach. I don't know._

_ I didn't expect him to tell me right away. I didn't expect him to tell me this. "Do you know all of the women you see me with on TV?" and I nod. Of course I have. In the Academy, we watch Finnick prance all over the Capitol with twenty, thirty, forty different women. Ever since he turned sixteen. Girls whisper that they wish it were their breasts that Finnick was grabbing, their naked bodies Finnick was entangled with._

_ Finnick's entire body shakes. "I denied him at first, Annie. Six months ago, right after my sixteenth birthday. Then my parents died in that boating accident, and when President Snow called me to the Capitol four months ago, he reminded me of the accident and told me that that's what happens when someone denies a request. Then, he threatened to have Mags killed if I don't do it. And you. He threatened you, too. He's making me have sex with them. They pay him, and they pay me, just for my body. How can I be so disgusting?" His last words are choked and emotional, and I look up from the sand. His eyes are bright green, and I hesitantly touch his hand. When he doesn't pull away, my other hand finds his hair._

_ At my touch, he breaks down completely. His sobs are loud, and the tears run hot down his face. And I think of the times in the past few months when I saw him with women on TV, when I had to stifle my anger. But I didn't know why. My face had flushed red all those times my classmates said they wish they had a turn with them. And now I know why._

Five days after I decline my invitation to take the Games practical, I sit in the cafeteria with the rest of the students in the Academy, about 200. Today is the day District 4 selects its volunteers for the 68th Hunger Games, and I could have been one of them. I shove my anger towards Finnick away, deep inside my heart, and remind myself that he is looking out for me. He survived the Games. He knows if I'm ready or not. He cares whether or not I come back in a wooden box.

I smile to myself as I remember the feel of his lips against mine, of knowing that despite all of the things that he had to do in the Capitol, it was me that he wanted. Finnick, with whom I've spent almost every day for the last three years. Finnick, who is the only person I trust with myself. Finnick, the only person in the world I'll ever be able to see.

"Attention students!" Nadi booms, silencing the entire cafeteria. "The tributes for this year's Games have been selected and will be presented to the Academy momentarily. Show your pride for District 4 and support them." Everyone in the cafeteria is completely silent as we wait for the tributes to come forward.

When the door opens, I'm shocked. Not by the boy, Adrian. I've sparred with him a few times at the axe station. He's eighteen years old, bulky, and phenomenal at every weapon. He has a great chance at winning the Games. The girl, however, is a different story. She is maybe five feet tall, and rail thin. Her name is Bayou, and she is unremarkable. Medium brown hair, medium toned skin, and eyes that are a medium color of brown. I'll have to ask Finnick later what she did to be selected, because right now, I have no idea how she made it through the Arena Room.

When I find Finnick after training, we walk to Victor's Island together. Mags is having me over for dinner, and I have nothing else to do, so we're just going to hang out at his house for a while.

"So, Finnick," I say, batting my eyelashes at him. Finnick may be my best friend—or whatever he is after that kiss—but persuading him to tell me about the Arena Room might be tough. "What's the deal with Bayou? She doesn't seem like much." Finnick sighs, but doesn't say anything. We've reached the border of Victor's Island, and the Peacekeeper asks me for a form of identification. I show him my student ID from the Academy and he nods. Once we're out of earshot, I look at Finnick.

"So? What happened?" I press.

"You know I shouldn't be telling you this."

"And you know I won't tell anyone."

"Yes, I do know that. Can we go get some lemonade and sit on the beach first?" He asks, and I nod meekly. Being friends with Finnick has its perks.

We walk into Finnick's huge house on the Island and I find myself wishing that Finnick's parents were still here. President Snow had them killed after Finnick denied his request, so now, all Finnick has now is Mags. And that's just fine, because Mags is wonderful. Ever since Finnick's Games, she's been like a mother to him, even when his was still here. She spends a lot of time at Finnick's house, making everything is taken care of, so it's no surprise that I see her when I walk in the front door.

"Hey, Mags. How are you?" I say, with a wide smile on my face. She gives me a toothy grin and opens her arms to me. I walk over to her and give her a hug, inhaling the smell of the sandalwood that she always smells like. Soon, she releases me and pats my cheek.

"I'm great. How is the Academy?" Her voice is strong and clear, even at 78 years old. She's the strongest, toughest person I've ever met. And incredibly kind and compassionate.

"Same as always. Winning everything," I say smugly, and she laughs jovially.

"I don't know why I'm surprised. Do you two want some lemonade?" Finnick and I both nod, and soon, after Mags lays down to take a nap, we're on the beach behind his house.

He plays with my hair absentmindedly, and I toss seashells into the waves. It's moments like this with Finnick that I love the most. I don't think of what we've become. I don't think about President Snow selling my best friend. I don't think about training, or knives, or the Games. Just me and the person who knows me better than anyone else.

But I have to break the silence eventually. I want to know about Bayou, this year's selected female tribute. "Finnick," I say gently, and he looks up from the sand. His sea green eyes pierce mine, and I have to catch my breath. "So how did she win?"

He inhales deeply, and then smiles. "Between you and I, I think Four will have a victor this year. And it won't be the boy." He pauses before continuing. "Bayou, as you can see, isn't much of a physical specimen, and that might be an understatement. And that girl is disturbingly intelligent. She got a perfect score on the written exam. Most of Four's victors have won by sheer force, using their weapons skills and physical superiority to beat the others. But Bayou went into the Arena Room and didn't even grab a weapon from the Cornucopia. She was so nondescript and small that no one noticed her creeping into the Cornucopia, so she could have had her pick of all of the weapons. But she just came out with four backpacks, and took off into the woods. She obviously spent a lot of time in the Survival Center, because she survived without any alliances whatsoever. But she killed fourteen tributes." I gasp, because Finnick killed twelve in the real Arena, not just the simulation. Fourteen, even for a simulation, is a ridiculously high number.

"How?" I breathe.

"It was strange. She camouflaged herself very well and was so quiet that she would ambush tributes, without any traps, and would just snap their necks. No one heard her coming. It was fantastic to watch. Whoever trained her did an excellent job. I was curious about her, so when she went into the Desensitizing Room, I went and researched her. I watched her weapons training throughout her years at the Academy, and she wasn't great. So her instructor pushed her towards hand to hand combat and survival, and somehow she was recommended that way. Maybe as a test to see if the Academy should shift its priorities. I don't know. But she just killed tributes with her bare hands. She would be standing two inches behind them and they couldn't sense her. It was incredible," he finishes.

"And you think she'll win?" I ask.

"I think she _could._ You never know what the actual tributes will be like, or the arena. It could be a frozen wasteland or a desert or district ruins. But I think she has a good chance."

"And you're mentoring, right?"

"Every year. You know that Mags volunteers to mentor so the other female victors don't have to, and Snow wants me there for every Games."

"I know."

Bayou doesn't have many sponsors until the training scores come out. She is so plain that people just glanced over her at the Parade. But when she scores an 11 in training, everyone is shocked. And the sponsors come pouring in. Adrian scores a 10, which was predictable, therefore boring. In the interviews, his personality comes off as dull, while Bayou is witty and intelligent.

When the Games start, Bayou deviates from her practical, and joins the trained tributes in an alliance. But when they narrow the playing field down to ten, she snaps everyone's neck while she's on watch. She doesn't look like she regrets Adrian's death.

When it comes down to the final three, Bayou runs into a boy from District 11, who has about fourteen inches and 150 pounds on her. She was too confident walking around in the open like she'd already won the Games. The boy from 11 drives his sword into her stomach before she even realizes what's happening, and she dies in minutes. He wins the whole thing.

I think, for a few moments, of how life can be taken so quickly and so brutally. Twenty-three lives gone in less than two weeks. At least the boy in the 68th Games did it quickly. Most of the time when a District other than 1, 2, or 4 wins, the victor is relatively human in their kills. While District 4 trains tributes, only five or six of our fourteen victors were bloodthirsty and cruel. Districts 1 and 2 are relentlessly maniacal. Their tributes are known for playing with their food and killing tributes in drawn out, painful ways. Always wanting to give the audience a show.

I know I won't be like that in the Games. I was taught to kill quickly and efficiently, not make it long and pointless. In order for me to win the Games, I have to kill as many tributes as possible. And I won't waste my time torturing people. I might be trained to kill, but I'm not cruel. I want to win the Games, badly. I want to bring honor and pride to District 4, and to my family. I've been trained to do this. And in the most honest part of myself, I can admit that there is nothing—except swimming, maybe—that can compare to the adrenaline rush of throwing an axe into something. There's nothing like the power of knowing I'm skilled enough to take someone's life, should I choose to.

But I don't relish the idea of murder. Murder is a side effect of the skills I have with weapons. Murder is necessary to win the Games, to achieve my goal. So, when the time comes that I'll have to live with the lives that, by then, I'll surely have taken, I will have to accept murder.


	5. Chapter 5

"He knows about you," Finnick deadpans.

"Who does? What do you mean 'about me?'" It's the March before the 69th Hunger Games, and I turned sixteen three months ago.

"Us. President Snow knows about us," Finnick says flatly. Finnick had pulled me from my parent's living room fifteen minutes previously, and insisted we swim out to sea 'to talk.' Which is code for 'talk about something potentially treasonous so it's imperative we are not overheard.'

"I didn't know there was an 'us,' Finnick." I feel fury rising up inside of me, and it's almost impossible to quell. Finnick and I have been best friends since I was eleven, and now our friendship is royally screwed up. Because of the kiss. Because of his prostitution. Because of the fact that I don't know what we are anymore, or what I mean to him.

"Annie, don't be stupid. You know there are cameras all over District 4, and he was bound to catch us eventually. He knows you're my girlfriend," he finishes.

"And?"

"He threatened to have you reaped this Games." I scoff. There are worse things, considering I plan on being selected as tribute for the 70th Games. "Annie, please take me seriously for five minutes of your life. This is serious. This is how he can manipulate me. I have to do the shit I do in the Capitol because he threatens to kill the people I love, you know this. He threatened you before because he knew you were my best friend. Now that he knows about us being together, it's worse."

"So what did you tell him?"

"I told him that yes, you were my girlfriend and that it was unnecessary to reap you because you were volunteering in a little more than a year anyways. I told him to remotely access the Academy's cameras if he didn't believe me."

"And us?"

"I told him that having a girlfriend would have absolutely no effect on my performance in the Capitol and the execution of my duties. And he let it slide, as long as I took up more clients than usual."

"_What?"_ I say disbelievingly.

"You heard me. At first I couldn't believe it, but then he added a condition. If you don't volunteer for the 70th Games, he will reap you for the 71st and make sure you don't make it out alive."

"So I have to ace my Games practical, essentially."

"Yes, but that is not what I'm worried about, Annie. You probably could have won last year's Games."

"What are you worried about, then?"

"You, Annie. I'm always worried about you." For a moment, everything else in the worlds recedes, leaving only Finnick's wet hair, his wide eyes, and flushed cheeks. The way his body bobbed slightly from treading water. And without thinking, I kiss him. I kiss him while we are both rhythmically kicking our feet to stay afloat; I kiss him, tasting salt water and quiet sorrow and beauty that can never be touched.

"I love you, Finnick." Four words that have run through my mind ceaselessly in the last year. Since our first kiss. Four words that materialized in my consciousness whenever I saw Finnick's face. Words that I desperately needed to hear back, words that would validate that whenever Finnick was moving from bed to bed in the Capitol it was me he was thinking of.

"Don't creep up on me like that, Cresta," Finnick whispers, so softly I almost don't hear him. His eyes are far away as he pulls my hand towards shore, towards land.

"Do you think of me?" I whisper, when we reach shore. I know that he understands what I'm asking. When he's in the arms of some grotesque Capitol woman, dyed blue or pink, does he think of me?

"I think of the first time you walked into the Academy. Brave. I think of the first time you threw a knife. You cheered when it hit the target. I think of you walking out of the ocean after I came home from my Games. I think of you, amazing me every day."

"What, with my knives?" I ask stupidly. I've never considered that there is anything about me, other than my skill with weapons, that is amazing.

"With your soul," he says. After that, we don't talk for a long time. We just stare out at the horizon, hand-in-hand.

I meet him after training, under the pier. Before I came here, I changed into a dress and put my hair in a braided knot at the top of my head. I put some mascara and blush on, too, because he just came back from the Capitol and I wanted him to see me looking good, for once. The dress was actually a gift from him that he brought back from the Capitol. Finnick told me that he was very close with his stylist and had her make it for me. It's made of sea green lace, and has long sleeves, but it only reaches about mid-thigh. When I see Finnick, I'm glad I went to the effort I did. He looks so beautiful my breath catches in my throat. My heart pounds faster than it does when I kill twelve mobile dummies in a row.

"Finnick," I say. His head jerks up at my voice and he runs towards me, scooping me up in his arms like I'm the most delicate flower in the world.

"I missed you, Ann," Finnick says into my ear.

"How were the girls this time around? Anyone good?"

"Nope. I spent the whole time thinking about this beautiful girl back home," he grins at me, and I smile back coyly.

"She must be a knockout," I say, and he laughs. However modest I want to be, I know I'm a beauty. I hear boys talking about me at the Academy, but I ignore them. Everyone but Blake, I ignore. Because if I'm being honest, Blake still makes me blush but I suppress it.

When I volunteer, they'll know that I'm not just a face. They'll know how deadly I am.

"How was training?" He asks when I sit down next to him on the sand. It's scary how well he follows my train of thought sometimes.

"It was fine. I was recommended again, but this time I wasn't an idiot. I declined." The 69th Hunger Games are coming up, and I was recommended, by Finnick, even. But honestly, the last Games made me realize that no matter how ready you _think_ you are, sometimes the Games don't work out in your favor. And I wanted to be as prepared as I possibly could.

"For the first time in your life," he grins at me and I slap him gently on the face.

"You made me see sense last year," and he did. I didn't realize at the time that, if I wasn't completely prepared for the arena, I was dead. And no honor would come to District 4 if I was dead. "I'm not ready yet. I need to fight against people who are way more skilled than me. I need to study and practice for the practical more. I need to take one of Nadi's strategy classes. Because when I go into the Games, I'm coming home. And not in a box."

"Annie, you need to be prepared for what you might see. The Games aren't what you think they'll be." I know from looking at him that he's right. The Games changed Finnick quite a bit. Before them, he was a killer. Confident. Ready. After, he seemed broken. Strong, but broken. Like the Games changed how he felt about Panem. And that scares me. His voice softens. "You're a lot gentler than you think you are, Ann. I see you when you aren't at the Academy, helping your grandmother buy groceries, swimming with your brothers. I know you better than you know yourself. Somewhere inside of you, there's a gentle heart. But you won't learn that until after the Games. I sure as hell didn't," he says as he barks out a bitter laugh.

Before I protest, Finnick kisses me. Through his eyes, I see the Games. The terrified look of the girl from 5, the screams of the boy from 7. The Games will be brutal, and I will be scared. But I've been training for this since I was nine years old. And I have to get there and win it.

We sit there until the sun sets. The squawking of the seagulls dies down as the light fades, and I'm overcome with melancholy. The sun setting over the ocean is the only thing in my mind. The water, beautiful and blue green during the day, fades to dark gray glass at night. The stars come out and their reflections sparkle off the water. When the sun sets and night falls, I'm always wishing for simpler days; sailing on my parent's boat, watching the stars from the middle of the ocean as the sea rocks me back and forth, eating buttered crab and drinking black coffee as the sun dies and the sea becomes the only reality that exists. That will ever exist.

"Finnick?" I ask, my voice dreamy.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go out tonight. Take your boat. Just go, you know."

"Annie, it's late. They'll get mad if we're on the water this late."

"Not if we're out by Victor's Island, you know that. You guys are immune. They know you won't run away." He knows I'm right. There's a small pedestrian bridge that leads out to Victor's Island, but it's guarded by Peacekeepers at night. Making sure no one sneaks in, but I'm with a victor—immune by association. Plus, Peacekeepers in District 4 don't have the hardest job. We aren't a poor district, and even the poorest of the district make enough money to feed themselves properly. No one is struggling. District 4 is a good place to be in Panem.

Finnick grabs my hand and I see a smile spreading across his face. The face that everyone in Panem knows, but only I _truly_ know. The face that represents every beautiful thing that exists underneath.

We lay on the deck of his boat, looking at the stars. It's hard for me to imagine life among the stars. All I know is District 4. All I know is the sweet blue ocean. But looking at the stars that reflect off the sea, I know there's something else out there. We are far from shore, floating on the waves. The stars are brilliant orbs in the sky and in the sea. I dream of my former life. My parents, waking me before dawn so we could watch the sun rise on the ocean. Burns and callouses on my fingers from netting and pulling in fish. Drinking coffee four times a day, playing chess with my father as we munched on sea salt chips. I dream of the days that weren't consumed by training for the Games.

"Annie?"

My reverie is broken and I see Finnick staring at me. I clear my throat, feeling defensive. "Yeah, Odair?"

"Do you think you're ready for the Games?" The question catches me off guard, and I wonder where it comes from.

"Yeah, I think so. Only time will tell."

"Don't volunteer. Just stay on as a trainer." After a certain number are selected for the Games practical, the ones that aren't selected to volunteer are promised a job at the Academy. That way, the ones that aren't selected to volunteer don't mess up the volunteering process. But most don't try. No matter how badly you want the Games, you want the best chance for the district more. If someone is more qualified than you, it's hard to object.

"Finnick, I want this. I want to bring honor to my district. I want little girls to look up to me and say, 'Annie was District Four's greatest female victor.' I want all of it. You know I do. You can't tell me to stay, if you care about me."

"The Games will destroy you." And I panic. I look around, out of habit, to make sure no one is listening. I give Finnick my worst glare and dive in the ocean, so angry I can't think. I don't think about the sharks that could be underneath me. All I can do is swim.

How stupid is he? He knows better than anyone the risks of running his mouth like that. No one denounces the Games. And now he goes and does it on a _Capitol made boat_, with me in his presence? I could be shot right next to him for treason.

So I hold my breath and let my body sink under the water, further and further. Then I use my legs to propel myself, imagining I am a fish or a mermaid or a shark or a whale—any animal that never has to leave the water—and let myself go. There's no sensation other than the silky smooth water, no motion but the gentle rock of the waves, no feeling in my body save for the electricity of knowing I'm safe beneath the surf. And I am fine. No one can touch me here. I'm home.

Finnick thinks I'm too fragile for the Games. I don't know why. Maybe he sees more in me than I see in myself. I'm definitely not bloodthirsty, like some other girls at the Academy, but I'm not afraid of killing. I'm not gentle. But I have moments, I know, that I get a faraway look in my eyes as I stare at the sea, when I talk about fishing, when I swim, when I find myself in the honesty of Finnick's company. There's a side of me, hidden far away, that's gentle and kind. Who is loving, and isn't a killer.

There are times that I'm terrified of Finnick. Terrified of his eyes; eyes that hold a thousand brutal memories, eyes that see through every façade I've built up, eyes that know me for who I truly am. I don't even know who I am, but Finnick knows. I've unknowingly borne my soul to him, given him every secret, every daydream, every desire. I am terrified of the eyes that look like they've seen a thousand years' worth of nightmares. Terrified of the eyes that strip me down, layer by layer, until they reach my heart.

When I resurface, I find Finnick sitting on the edge of the boat, legs dangling off the side. Drunk from my swim in the sea, I ask him, "What do you see, Finnick?"

The moon cast shadows across his face, but his ocean eyes are the same, always the same whether in a hurricane or in the arena. Sea green eyes that I've memorized and spent every second staring into for the past year. Deeper than the ocean. More free than the open sky.

They're all I can see, and all I can feel—they are the sea keeping me afloat.

"I see you, Annie."


	6. Chapter 6

When we're huddled on the deck of his boat, sipping rum and giggling like idiots, I realize I've never felt closer to anyone in my life. Finnick rubs his hands together to warm them up, but it isn't that cold.

"Why does he do this to you, Finn?" I ask, the words spewing out of my mouth, completely unchecked. I've tried to hold it in before, but now—especially with all the rum in my system—I can't. I want to be in the Games, I know that. But for me, not for the president of Panem. For Finnick.

"For profit," he says simply, and suddenly I'm outraged. Finnick Odair is a human being, and he's seen as a profit! A piece of meat that has been bought and sold, Finnick isn't free. "Because I'm irresistible," Finnick adds, trying to lighten the mood. I laugh a little, but it's dark and bitter.

"I wish they could see your soul," I say, but very quietly. I don't even know if Finnick heard me. Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. "What if they do that to me, Finnick?" For some reason, I've never thought of this before. Perhaps, I thought that Finnick was the only one; because he's so devastatingly handsome no one could keep their hands off him. I don't look like Finnick, but I'm certainly beautiful. Desirable. Will I be desirable enough to be bought and sold when I win the Games?

"We'll come up with something when you win. Turn you into some blood-crazed psychopath so no one will want you. We'll find something," he says. But I don't believe him. "I would never let them touch you, Annie."

"Do you want me to win the Games?"

"Yes," he answers, but I know there's more. "But I'm scared of what you'll see in the arena. I don't want it to change you."

"No matter what I see, Finnick, I'll always come back to you."

"No matter what happens to you, I'll always be here." I laugh a little bit and grab the bottle of rum.

"I know. Now let's get drunk and celebrate," I say loudly, my words slurring together a bit.

"Celebrate what?"

"My fantastic swimming skills," I say lamely, unable to come up with anything else. But Finnick laughs and takes a big swig from the bottle.

"Cheers," he whispers. _Cheers,_ I think. _Cheers to you, Finnick._

I take a huge gulp of the rum. It burns going down my throat, but the burn resonates in my chest and tells me that I'm strong enough to survive anything. I chug more of the rum, and Finnick snatches the bottle greedily and does the same thing. We settle into a routine, passing the bottle of rum and a glass of coconut juice back and forth, drinking until the bottle is empty.

My vision blurs together at the edges, but at its center, I see Finnick. Finnick runs his fingers through his hair and smiles at me. And suddenly, I'm so overcome with emotion that my lips crush his in a matter of seconds. The world tilts and turns and I've never felt this whole in my life.

His breaths are hot and heavy, and he slips his hand underneath my dress. His tongue touches mine and I feel fire running through my veins, making me come alive. I lose my balance and giggle drunkenly, but Finnick moves on top of me and all I can see is him. Finnick, whose hands explore my body. Finnick, whose hands are like electricity and fire and heat and tridents piercing my skin all at once. And I. Can't. Get. Enough.

I pull his shirt over his head, and he lifts my dress off of me. His lips return to mine, but soon trace their way down my body, scorching me like brilliant kisses from the sun itself. My neck, my collarbone, my chest, my stomach, my upper thighs.

I'm drunker than I ever have been before, but as we both undress and the fire of his body takes me past the point of return, I know that I'll never love another person this much as long as I live.

Training picks up after the 69th Games. District 4 hasn't seen victory since Finnick's in the 65th Hunger Games. The tributes for the Games this year were a boy and girl named Anchor and Grace, who were typical of tributes that come from 1 and 2: stupid. Usually tributes from 4 are a bit more intelligent because there's a focus on mental preparation, but Grace and Anchor were just big brutes, like their counterparts from 1 and 2. Surprisingly, a girl from District 6 ended up winning. It was actual a brutal Games, because her district counterpart, Titus, had gone completely insane in the arena and ended up eating the hearts of his victims. Rumor around the Academy is that the Capitol used an avalanche to take him out, specifically. The girl from 6 watched him eat his first victim and fled. From that point on, all she did was run and kill. She did not want to be Titus's next meal. I think her name was Emily.

I find myself alone in the knives room. Usually, this wouldn't be allowed, but Nadi has taken a personal interest in my knives training, so I'm allowed to do pretty much whatever I want. He tells me I'm his favorite. And I tell him that he's my favorite to look at.

I'm not throwing knives at the moment, though. Nadi told me to start thinking like I'm in the arena when I practice, so I brought in coils of rope from the Survival Center and am hastily making net traps. I rig three of my nets around the room, hoping they'll entrap a few of the dummies. After I set the traps up, I run to the green button and throw my hand on it. In 5 seconds, I am positioned in the middle of the room, waiting for the dummies to ambush me.

I don't play with my food anymore. I circle around, shoulder roll, and cartwheel out of the way of the dummies' weapons, throwing knives as fast as I can and shoving them into hearts. My nets caught two dummies, who find themselves with knives through their necks.

It's impressive work, really. Sixteen dead this time. I let a breath out and laugh a little bit, but suddenly I'm terrified. Will killing people be easy for me? Will I just see them as dummies? Just another obstacle that stands in front of my goal?

I crouch down and put my head in my hands. I allow myself to acknowledge this weakness for five seconds. _One._ I imagine me eating the heart of a tribute, gone violently insane. _Two._ Dummies all over the arena. Just dummies. _Three._ An arena on fire, piles of dead bodies. _Four._ No mercy as I murder everyone in the arena. _Five._ I breathe in and out. The Games are coming, and I have to win them.

I collect myself and head to the axe room.

"Annie, that axe is too light for you," Finnick remarks, frowning. "You'll throw it and it'll spin out of control. Just go one size up." I roll my eyes, but listen. He's my instructor, not my boyfriend, here and I can't argue with him.

"Can you just give me some simple mobile dummies? Nothing trying to attack me, just have them move around fast. Please?" I say, letting the exhaustion seep into my voice. Training is taking a toll on me.

I have two axes in my hands, and three on a chair next to me. I breathe in and out as the dummies move, slowly at first, then faster. I let a huge breath out and predict the trajectory of a dummy.

_Wham._ The axe I was just holding is embedded in the chest of the dummy I aimed for. I throw with my left hand, and another dummy is finished. I throw my remaining axes, and walk over to Finnick.

"Can we please do something? Something not related to killing people?" I say tiredly. The three months I've spent training since the 69th Games have been brutal. Everyone has to train harder, not just me. But I'm hounded a lot by almost all of the instructors, because I'm the best candidate for the Games. And the Academy really wants a victor from 4 this year.

"Festival is tonight, you know." I slap my forehead, because I almost forgot that the autumn festival was going on. District 4, being a rich district, has a number of festivals throughout the year, but this one is my favorite. Although it's warm year round in District 4, we can pretend for a little while that the trees are turning orange and yellow and that there's crispness in the air.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Wanna go with me?" I lower my voice seductively and look at him through my eyelashes.

"You're not going with Hala this year?" Hala had become a good friend of mine at the Academy, and we'd gotten in the habit of going to festivals together. But Hala got a boyfriend not too long ago, so she's been suspiciously absent lately.

"Nah. She's too busy sucking face with her mystery boyfriend. It's just you and me, Odair," I say, still using my seductive voice. "Wanna hang out with my family while I get ready?"

"Obviously," he says.

While Finnick entertains my idiotic brothers, I slip into my parent's bedroom to find my mother, to tell her that I'm going to the festival with Finnick.

They're in the sitting room by the bathroom. Her and my father. Arguing. I'm sure they would be screaming if there weren't people in the house.

I come in almost silently, and they don't hear me.

"Marlin, how stupid could you be? You shoved her into the Academy and now she is a God damn stranger to me! She trains to kill people every day, and we barely see her! Is that really what you want? A murderer for a daughter?" My mother says frantically, and I see my father's face harden. Tears well up in my eyes at her words. A stranger. A murderer. New words added to the dictionary of how to describe me.

"I never knew you were so selfish," my father says flatly.

"Selfish? How dare you call me that after everything we've been through?"

"How dare you attack Annie the way you are now? I put her in that Academy so that she would be prepared! So she could win the Games and get everything she deserves! She will _never_ be a murderer, not Annie. She is kind and compassionate and she will be even after she wins the Games." My heart swells for my father, who seems to know the good things about me, and the bad, and still accepts me. My father, whose intentions are always good.

"And what happens if Annie doesn't win the Games? Because she won't! And even if she does, I won't be able to look at her! My daughter will be gone forever to me, and it's all your fault!" My mother's voice picks up, and she slaps my father across the face.

Before my dad has time to do anything, I have my mother pinned against a wall.

"Don't touch him," I say, my voice low and deadly. "I came in here to tell you I was going to the festival with Finnick, but seeing as I'm a stranger to you, I see no need to be here anymore." I turn to my father, releasing my mother. "Dad. You're welcome to move in with me after I win. I love you," and I walk out, not even looking back. I grab my makeup bag and some clothes—the only possessions of mine still at this house—from my room, throw them in a bag, and walk out of the house.

I only make it to the beach before I start crying.

I throw my bag down in the sand and collapse, letting the disappointment and hurt and betrayal run through my veins, and it drowns me. I'm caught in a riptide, and I don't know which way to swim. I can't find the shore, and I don't know where I am.

I run to the water, still in my sweaty Academy clothes, but I don't care. I wade out, and submerge myself under the water. I imagine the water filling my lungs, the saltwater searing them beyond repair, but I still hold my breath. Waves rock me gently, but I only focus on how silky the water is on my fingertips. How wonderful it feels to be reunited with my one true home.

Arms pull me up from my temporary peace, and I'm met with green eyes.

"What were you doing? You just stormed out of your house, and I had to ask your father what happened. I couldn't find you afterwards until I saw a little bit of your head and I thought you were trying to drown yourself! Are you stupid, Annie?" His words come out rushed and frustrated, but I just shake my head.

"I was calming down," and it's eerie how calm and steady my voice is, though I know my eyes are red and puffy.

"I'm sorry, Ann," he whispers to me. "You don't need her. You can stay with me until the Games."

"I was going to ask her to do my hair. So I could look pretty. That's all I wanted," I say. My voice breaks and I'm crying, crying, crying. Finnick doesn't say anything, he just looks at me. I sink my head into the sand, and let the hot water pour down my face. Finnick picks me up and carries me, but I don't know where, because I fall asleep in his arms.

When I wake up, it's early evening. I'm disoriented when I wake up, because I'm not in a familiar place. After a moment or two, a sentence resurfaces in my mind. _You can stay with me until the Games._

So that's where I am. Finnick's house. I get up to stretch and I hear whistling downstairs. Finnick's whistling. And I smell eggs. I open the door cautiously and walk downstairs, guided by my growling stomach.

"Finn?" My voice comes out small and rough, and I'm embarrassed. He turns and smiles at me like I'm the only person he'll ever want to look at, and my heart squeezes. He opens his arms and I walk straight into them, clutching the back of his shirt desperately. Right now, with my body pressed against the firm muscle of Finnick's, I know I'll never need another person as much as I need him. I breathe in and all I can smell is him, and I hug him tighter. "Please don't ever think those things about me."

He chuckles quietly, but it sounds like he's crying. "Annie, I love you." I jerk my head up and skitter back a few steps.

"Say it again."

"I love you, Ann." His eyes are red and there's a tear making its way down the side of his face, but all I can look at are his eyes. I search them desperately for a lie, but I only see oceans and waves and loyalty and steadfastness and wide open skies.

"I love you too, Finnick." The words come out as a whisper, but my heart is screaming them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hi guys! Just giving some extra credit in this chapter. Obviously the characters/story belong to Suzanne Collins, and I borrow lyrics from the Low Anthem's "Lover is Childlike" in this chapter. Hope you guys like it! Cheers!**

I position myself in front of the bathroom connected to what is now my room, and start to work on my face. Finnick and I had eggs and toast for early dinner, so I could get ready for the festival.

I let my dark hair fall in its natural waves down my back, and blend different colors of eye shadow together: midnight blue, sea green, and shimmering gold. I put a rose color on my lips and my cheeks, put gold dangly earring in my ears, and put on a tight, light green dress. I look good, I think.

When I walk downstairs, Finnick is already dressed and ready. My breath catches when I see him; he wears a sea green linen shirt with khaki pants on, and I've never seen him look so handsome.

When I walk up to him, he whispers in my ear, "You shouldn't have worn that. I won't be able to keep my hands off of you," and his voice is seductive and low like it is when he's in the Capitol. I giggle a little bit at him, and swat him away.

"I can guarantee I won't be able to keep mine off of you, Mr. Odair," I say, mimicking his seductive tone.

"You're almost as good as I am at being seductive," he remarks coyly.

"And you're almost as good-looking as I am." At that, he laughs out loud with such exuberance that I can't help but grin widely. It sounds like the way he used to laugh before the Games, before he had to be a different version of himself. He takes my hand and we walk out the front door.

The night is cool, but I'm not cold. As we walk inland from Victor's Island, all I can smell is the ocean, and it's magnetic. At times like these, I feel bad for the rest of Panem. District 7 has trees, District 11 has fields and orchards, but we're the only district that has the sea. Hundreds of miles of coast, multiple towns nestled on the coast of the fishing district. The city where I live is the largest, and it's the main town in District 4. District 4 has a population of nearly 20,000, and there are ten towns along the coastline, with fences keeping those towns separated. The entire coast of District 4 is lined with watchtowers, but they're unnecessary. The people of District 4 are, I believe, the luckiest in Panem. Everyone I've ever met here would never leave. I know that I would never leave District 4, even if I were at the end of a gun.

"Annie?" Finnick says, waving his hand in front of my face. "What's going on up there?" I laugh. Finnick is too familiar with me zoning out and going into the world inside my mind.

"Just thinking about how lucky we are in District 4. The only other people who have seen the ocean are victors and escorts. It's sad," I say, but I'm happy. I'm lucky.

"I wish you knew how many times I've thought that," but Finnick is sad and melancholy. He is worlds away, trapped inside the nightmare of his own mind. But suddenly, his face breaks out in a smile. "And now, I have the most beautiful girl in the most beautiful district by my side. I'll never want for anything again."

I lean up and kiss his cheek, just because I can. Just because I'm so thankful that he is here, so thankful that he came home from the Games four and a half years ago. So thankful that he is with me.

When we arrive to the festival, the noise is overwhelming. People from other towns in District 4 have travelled here for the festival, so the coastline and the pier are more crowded than ever. My eyes light up, and I tell Finnick that we should go dance.

We dance until our feet are sore, and laugh until our stomachs can't take it anymore, and stuff ourselves with apple pie and brown sugar salmon until we fall down on a white bench on the pier, and I'm reminded of the times when Finnick was innocent, when he was happy. When we both didn't have a care in the world; when I didn't worry about volunteering next year, when he didn't have worry about what the Games did to him.

The band starts up an old, slow song, and I feel Finnick pulling me back to the dance floor. Everyone in District 4 knows this song, this ballad dedicated to a childlike lover and to the neverending sea.

_Meet me down by the whale watch; meet me down by the sea_

I hear voices all around singing, contributing just a little to this beautiful tribute to the ocean, and I let myself close my eyes and take it in. _Meet me down by the sea_. The air smells like salt and baked apples, and I swear I can hear the waves crashing over the noise of the festival, over the gentle notes of the song._ We'll go out on the sea. _ Small waves and large, tumbling into shore, kissing the sand. _See her down in the surf._ The air is all I can feel, the waves all I can hear. _She whispers, "God hates flags." _And Finnick; Finnick is all I can feel.

It's late May, and I'm seventeen. Seventeen, the year I spent my childhood wishing for. Seventeen, the year I would volunteer for the Games. But all I feel right now are nerves. It's the day when instructors turn in their recommendations, and I've been selected. Tomorrow, I will have to accept or decline, and I know I will accept.

"Odair!" I call with a smile. He jogs over to me, and gives me a wide smile that doesn't quite touch his eyes.

"You're going to accept, right?" He asks excitedly, but I feel like it's an act. He wants to be supportive.

"Yep. Let's go tell Mags," I suggest. I'm sure Mags has already guess that I would be selected, but I'm still excited to see the look on her face when I tell her. After my mother decided that I was a stranger to her, Mags stepped up and took the role, and it's become very natural.

I take a deep breath walking into Mags's house, inhaling the smell of it. She's been baking, and by the smell of it, it's lemon meringue pie. I yell, "Mags!" and she walks down the stairs after a few moments.

"Hi, sweetie. Do you want some pie?" I laugh gently and tell her that yes, of course I do, and she gets me three pieces. "So, get down to it already, you two."

"What do you mean?" Finnick asks, confusion knitting his brow.

"You two come here after the Academy lets out and are sitting here with expectant looks on her face. I may be old, but I'm not stupid."

"I'm going to accept the invitation to take the Games practical." I blurt out, nervous and excited and nauseous at the same time.

"And do you think you have the skills to win?" Mags asks in a grandmotherly way.

"Yes," I say automatically, because I really do think that. I've been training for nine years for this, and I'm totally prepared. "I'm well rounded in weapons and survival, and I'm smart. I think I'll be fine," I finish.

"Well, then," she smiles happily. "I'm glad for you. Just remember that the Games will change you," she says, but then grin doesn't leave her face. I think she knows that I know that. And I think she thinks I'll win.

"Thanks, Mags," I say gratefully. "I want to thank you for everything you've done for both Finnick and me. You're like a mother to both of us, and we couldn't possibly love you more than we do," I finish, and she has tears in her eyes.

"The pleasure, I can assure you, has been all mine. You two will always be my wonderful children, no matter what."

I look over at Finnick, but he's looking at Mags with tears in his eyes. His eyes shift over to me, and it's like I can read the thoughts behind his gaze. _You have to win,_ he tells me silently. _Win and come home._

"I just wanted to let both of you know that I'll win the Games for you. I promise you, I'll be coming back, and we'll all be neighbors," I say proudly, but I know that it's a promise that might be hard to keep. But I'm determined. I'm not just going to be selected and win the Games for honor and pride. I'll be doing it for the people I love. Mags, my father, my brothers. And Finnick. Always for Finnick.

"I accept," I say loudly to the leader of the Academy, Gordon Earl. He shakes my hand proudly, and hands me an access card to the Games Center. I walk with my head held high, and when I walk through the door, I am immediately greeted by Blake, one of my best friends in the world. A rush of heat goes through me. "Blake? You were recommended?"

"Obviously, dummy," but he says this with worry in his eyes. What if it is Blake—one of my best friends since I was nine years old—and me in the Games together? I want to win, but I don't think I can kill him. He's been my friend since I came here. I used to like him. Maybe I still do.

"Well, good. I'll need some competition in the arena." He laughs, but I think we both feel sick to our stomachs. It'll end up being us. I can feel it, and I think he can too.

When every person who has been recommended comes through the doors, I can see that seventeen year olds are dominating the playing field this year. Hala, to my surprise, was recommended, and so were Michael and Nadia. There are a collection of eighteen year olds, and we are all silent.

"Written tests will begin shortly," Gordon announces. "But first, I would like to tell you all how proud I am of all of you. This year's crop of potential tributes is one of the best I've ever seen, and I feel confident that District 4 will have a victor this year. You are all the best of the best. I congratulate you." A scream tears through my throat, and I pump my fist in the air. Soon, all of us are. We have been trained our whole lives for this opportunity. And here we are. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the Testing Room."

The Games Center is not light and airy like the rest of the Academy. The lights are dim and the walls are completely black. Everything seems to be aimed at disorienting potential tributes, and I'm guessing that's what it is. The Games are as mental as they are physical.

"You may serve yourself food and drink before the test begins in fifteen minutes. At that time, I ask you find the cubicle with your name on it and begin when the buzzer sounds." Gordon Earl deadpans. The only passion I heard from him was when he was congratulating us.

Blake walks over to me, and he motions to the food panel. I hit the "EGGS" button, and am rewarded with a huge plate full of steaming eggs. I also press the "ESPRESSO—LATTE" button and stand next to Michael while he orders his food. He is nervous, and so am I.

"It'll be you," he says quietly. "We all know it." And my stomach clenches at the thought. I want to be in the Games, of course, but that doesn't rid me of the anxiety. But I put on a poker face and nod to him. I set my plate down and grab his hands.

"Just like in training. You and me," I say, and my stomach gives another flip. I notice how beautiful the pale, clear blue of his eyes are, and how dark his eyelashes are. Suddenly, a look of longing comes into his eyes, and we press our foreheads together like we did before we sparred in training. But this time, it feels more intimate. And I can't say I don't enjoy it. I forget about Finnick for a moment, and let myself be young. I let myself feel something for someone else, and I think that maybe I've always felt something for Blake. Blake has been my friend for nine years. I even had a crush on him when I was younger, a huge crush. And that's okay.

After all, one of us could be dead in a month.

"Good luck, Annie," Blake whispers.

"Good luck, Blake," and my voice is even quieter than his.

I put my hand on the pulse reader, and begin the test. It's mainly strategic questions, like:

_The pool has come down to the final eight. You and your allies must separate. What is the best option to ensure victory?_

_Break away from the group at your earliest opportunity and play on your own._

_The night before splitting up, kill all of them in their sleep._

_Raid the camp before splitting and hunt down the remaining tributes._

_Keep your district alliance, and follow your former allies after splitting up in order to eliminate the toughest competition._

And it's completely easy. I know, especially if it was Blake in the arena with me, that we would stay allied until the end. My heart squeezes as I select D.

_The arena is a frozen wasteland with abundant trees and frozen streams. What is your tactic in this arena?_

_Make camp at the Cornucopia and use the supplies there to get you through the Games._

_Move camps every day, making sure to stay near trees and streams._

_Isolate yourself from the other tributes in a secluded corner of the arena and try to stay warm._

_Attempt to kill as many tributes before you freeze to death._

I actually laugh at the last two answers, and select B. Soon enough, the strategy questions shift to survival, which shift to combat. I breeze through them, and as I finish question 100, which is short answers, not multiple choice—_Your final opponent is one hundred pounds heavier than you and you are fighting in close quarters. What is your combat strategy to take down this opponent to win the Hunger Games?_—I hit the buzzer that signals that I'm done.

Gordon Earl comes by to tell me that I can leave my cubicle, so I go to the bathroom and pick up more food. The food choices have shifted from breakfast to lunch, and I have a hamburger to build up my strength before the Arena Room. If I make it to the Arena Room. I let out a long breath I didn't know I was holding in.

When all of the students finish, Blake finds me. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and whispers, "How did it go?" I laugh out loud, causing the other students to look at Blake and me.

"Flawlessly. You?"

"Decent. I think it's enough to get me to the next step," he says, hope in his voice. He gives me a hug, which alleviates some of the nerves I'm experiencing. He smells nice, and I find myself hugging back tighter.

"Attention, students. I will be announcing the written exam scores now. If you received a score below 70, you will not progress any further. With no further ado, here are your scores. Cresta, Annie with a score of 96." I gasp as he continues, "Daferi, Hala with a score of 72. Dolly, Kyle with a score of 58. Edwards, Nadia with a score of 69." Nadia lets out a groan, and I'm very surprised that she didn't make the cut and Hala did. But Hala worked hard to improve, but Nadia plateaued. "Hadley, Blake—" I hold my breath. "With a score of 94." I clap him on the back. "Lowe, Bethany with a score of 90. Peters, Samuel with a score of 80. Wavely, Michael with a score of 73. Schuler, Emily with a score of 49. Schuler, Marina with a score of 85. Finally, Townsend, Barry with a score of 92. Congratulations to those who made it past, and congratulations to those who didn't. Because you were skilled enough to take this test, you will all be offered a position at the Academy. Please follow Mr. Odair to the room where you will be assigned your positions." I look nervously at Finnick, because Blake's arm is still around my shoulders. Finnick knows we're friends. I let out a breath when he smiles at me. In the clear.

After the students follow Finnick—who will be back in time for the practical—Gordon addresses us, "You all deserve very much to be here. I am proud of all of you. Now, I will be telling you about what we call the Arena Room." My heart beats faster. "Now, you will be entering the room in alphabetical order. The Arena Room does not create an entire Games for you, as that would take days. The Arena Room will conjure up five to ten scenarios that you will have to react to, based on how well you are doing and how many tributes have been killed. These scenarios are holographic, as are the tributes, but it is_ very _real, I can assure you. The Review Board will be watching the entire thing and taking copious notes. Each student will only take about one hour. After everyone is finished, it will take two to three days to select the tributes. Those of you who are not selected will also be offered positions at the Academy. Those two of you who are selected will be tributes and the pride of our district. Best of luck."

I don't even have time to wipe the sweat off my hands before "Cresta, Annie," is called and I'm ushered into the room. Massive doesn't even begin to describe it. It's even larger than the Main Center, and all around me are holographs of the Games. The arena is an island, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm positioned on a pedestal and I survey my fellow tributes and the cornucopia. There are actual weapons inside the holographic Cornucopia, but from what Finnick has told me, once a holographic tributes seizes one, it disappears and is put into holographic form. The weapons I will use are real.

My heart stops as I see a tribute that looks almost identical to Finnick. I make eye contact with him, and he nods at me. I find myself nodding back, and I do the same with the tributes from 1 and 2. An alliance. The alliance that the outer districts call the Career alliance, because the Games are pretty much our career.

The gong goes off, and I sprint to the Cornucopia, beating all the other tributes there. I grab four belts of knives, and three axes, big enough to kill in close range but small enough to throw. I turn and holograph Finnick yells, "Defend the Cornucopia!" I do exactly that. I find a small girl trying to run towards me and I throw a knife right into her heart. Sensing someone to my left, I cartwheel outside of the Cornucopia and throw the knife halfway through my cartwheel. Two dead by my hands. But I don't even think anymore. A large boy slinks out of the Cornucopia behind me, and I see a scythe in his hands.

"What do you think you're doing?" I say evilly. But before I can say anything more, I see his arm move, and I duck. I tackle him by the knees, and he goes down. I sit on him and push his wrist down with my foot, and I hear a crack. The scythe won't do him any good now. I jam my arm into his windpipe, until I realize who I'm acting like. I'm acting like 1 and 2, playing with my food. I release him, but pull him up by his hair. He deserves a quick death. While I'm holding his head from behind, I slit his throat with my other arm. I belt my knife and pull an axe out from the sling on my back, looking for a fight. And I find one with the boy from 6, who found a sword. We spar for a while, but I'm mainly doing it for fun. The tribute looks alarmed by the smile on my face, and begins to back up. He knows he won't win. I know he won't win. So he tries to run, but I throw my axe so hard at his back that it sticks out from his chest a little bit.

I look around and see that the Cornucopia is littered with bodies, and everyone else has fled.

"Nice job, 4," the male from District 2 grins at me. I look around to survey the damage. Four dead by my hand. I walk to the boy from 6, and pull my axe out of him so I can catch my breath. I'm exhilarated. I pull my knives from two dead tributes and hear the cannons go off. Twelve dead.

The holograph fades into another scenario, where we are being chased by dog mutts. They are fast, but I'm much faster than they are. Abandoning all of my allies, except the one that looks like Finnick, I signal that we should climb the rubbery trees. "Better vantage point," I yell.

Here, I am comfortable. There are around 8 dogs, and I have forty eight knives. Easy. I pick them off with knives, my district partner takes a few down with spears, and we're safe. But not the rest of our pack. The boy and girl from 1 are dead, and the tributes from 2 are badly injured.

I see their bleeding wounds, and I close my heart. I can't pity them here. It's a weakness. So I tell them, "I'll make it quick," and snap both of their necks. I shudder at my ruthlessness but remind myself that if I were injured they wouldn't think twice. So I don't.

The images fade away as the Finnick lookalike and I hunt in the jungle. We need food, because the dog mutts destroyed our store at the Cornucopia. But we find nothing. Luckily, we find that the ocean surrounding the island is full of bright and colorful fish. I recognize one as the Red Snapper, and we fry it and devour its delicious meat. A cannon goes off. Only seven left.

"So when do we separate?" I ask lightly.

"We kill two more, and then separate. I don't want to kill you," and the Finnick lookalike focuses his sea green eyes on me. I will myself to stay strong, but his eyes are breaking me down. _I don't want to kill you._

"Okay. Let's hunt." He smiles at me and the moment has been shattered by our mutual need to win.

I find the girl from 11 hidden in a tree, asleep. I smile to myself because it's perfect. I have an axe, and Finnick is on the ground. I tell Finnick that I'll cut down her branch or something and he'll be responsible for her death on the ground. Team kill. So I silently climb the tree, hoping my slight movements won't wake her. When I get to her branch, I almost hesitate. Her skin is dark brown, and she looks peaceful. She looks like she's worlds away, nowhere near the Games, and I wish that she wasn't here. I wish I didn't have to kill her. I look at her for a little while longer, then assess the situation. She is sleeping at the crook of two slim branches, strapped in by rope. I decide to cut down the branch from the side, so she'll fall down to the Finnick lookalike. I apologize to her in my mind, and take a large swing at the branch. She wakes up, but the branch is so thin that she can't untie her rope before I take two more swings and the branch falls. I close my eyes so I don't see her death. _I'm sorry. It was you or me._

But I still hear her screams. I give myself three seconds to feel for this girl and then put my steel armor back on. This is the Hunger Games, and I have to win.

I kill a large boy from District 10, but I don't apologize for him. He attacked me viciously, and I'm slightly injured, walking with a limp. But I buried my axe in his head.

When I say goodbye to the Finnick lookalike, we are standing on the beach of the island. "See you later," he says to me. "I hope it's not the two of us in the end."

All I say is, "Me too," before I go walking my separate way. The arena changes to a dense patch of jungle on the outer edge of the Cornucopia. I'm stalking along, a knife in each hand, when I hear voices. Three of them. Some outer district alliance, I'm assuming. I decide to have just a bit of fun with them, because so far my kills have been relatively easy.

I creep out of the jungle to the clearing where the Cornucopia is, and make some noise like I'm wounded and call for help. They rush out of the jungle, eager looks on their faces, until they realize that I'm not injured. I bet they thought I'd be an easy kill with the way I was calling for help. I played them. And they realize it.

My training kicks in when one throws a spear at me. I recall the mobile dummies with Nadi and hear his voice in my hand, _Spin out of the way. Backwards knife throw._ I execute perfectly, but I duck to the ground directly after, because I hear the pull of a bowstring. The arrow would have hit me right between the eyes two seconds before. Angry at his accuracy, I charge at him, knocking him down. One of his arrows scraped my arm as I took him down. I keep one foot on his throat as I kick him in the stomach. "I hate you," he chokes out, and I actually laugh. The idea of this boy's hate actually affecting me is laughable. We're all playing for the same prize. There's no room for hate.

"Sorry to hear that." I say flatly. I hear movement behind me, and in one swift motion, I've pulled the axe from the sling, turned and cut the girl from 12's head off.

In that two seconds, the archer tries to run away from me, and I give chase. He sprints into the jungle, and I follow him, quick and lithe as a jungle cat. When I hear Finnick's voice, my heart sinks. Either this boy will kill Finnick, or I will have to.

"Looks like your training won't help you win after all," the boy spits out. His voice is bitter and disgusted, and I realize, for the first time, how much the other districts hate us. I keep listening to the encounter, and I recognize it from Finnick's actual Games. I know what Finnick will say before he says it. _Tell me why it matters anymore. In the end, you kill me or I kill you. We're all equals here, kill or be killed._

"Tell me why it matters anymore. In the end, you kill me or I kill you. We're all equals here, kill or be killed." Finnick says quietly but proudly.

"I won't be sorry to see you die," and I'm amazed that this practical is taking material from Finnick's Games directly. I remember it perfectly.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear you say that. And I'll be sorry to see you die," Finnick says, always calm and measured. He doesn't sound cruel or compassionate, just indifferent. I wonder if his words were true back then.

"Go to hell, 4." Those are the last words I hear before there's a sound of metal hitting a body, and I know the boy is dead.

And I know that this is my final test. I know that what I do now will decide whether I'm chosen for the Games. I love Finnick, and if I don't kill him in this arena, I will fail. I'm sure of it. So I step out from behind the tree.

I can't look at him, but I'm sure he's staring me down now, asking with his eyes if this is what I want to do. "I'm sorry, Finnick," I whisper almost inaudibly. I look up for just a moment, to aim my knife, when I see his eyes. I almost falter. Almost. But I raise my arm and say, "I have to win." And in the final seconds before my knife reaches the target, his eyes tells me that he understands.

I want to run back to Victor's Island after everyone finishes their practical. I've never wanted so badly to collapse into bed and cry, but now that's all I can think of. Blake catches me for a moment, and I tell him very quietly, just like I did before written exam, "Just like in training. You and me."

He smiles, and when I look at his lips, I think of the times he would smile at me when I was thirteen, and I would blush. They look soft, and welcoming. I almost allow him to kiss me, thinking it will erase the memories of what I just had to do to the person that has always stuck by me, never given up on me. Maybe it would just be easier to forget, for just a moment. He leans in to kiss me, and his lips are barely touching mine before the memory of Finnick, pale and dead by my hand, reappears in my mind. Finnick, who I love more than anyone else. Finnick, who was my final test to see if I was strong enough. Finnick, who I watched bleed to death, and it was so real I can't breathe anymore. And I know I can't kiss this boy.

I inhale sharply and say, "Blake, I've gotta go. I'm having dinner with Finnick tonight." He nods, his eyes still soft, and I walk away. But before I leave the waiting room, I turn to see Finnick looking at me, betrayal written all over his face. He saw the whole thing.


	8. Chapter 8

"Please let me explain," I beg. I came back to the Island and waited in the dark on the doorstep of Finnick's house, but he just brushed past me and told me to go away.

"No, Annie. I didn't know you were the cheating type," he says harshly.

"I'm not, Finnick! I love you!"

"Shut up, Annie. I'm not buying it. We're done," he says with a tone of finality in his voice. But I can't let it end here, not now.

"Finnick, please," I'm sobbing now. I grip the front of his shirt, and he refuses to look at me. "Please, listen to me."

"Fine."

"I was upset because of what I had to do in the Arena Room, but of course you already knew that, didn't you?" I say, tears still running from my eyes. He looks confused.

"No, Annie, I didn't see your run in the Arena Room. I don't get to watch or to vote on you because I'm your personal instructor," he says with venom, but I know he's confused.

"You were in it, Finnick. They even used exact quotes from your Games. You were my ally, but then we split up, and we were the last two. I knew that I had to kill you, I knew it was supposed to be some weakness for me to overcome, and if I didn't do it I wouldn't be chosen. I just knew, okay? And I killed you. I threw a knife into your heart and I watched the life bleed out of you, and I just wanted to lie down and die with you but I couldn't! I had to be strong and kill you! And afterwards I was so upset I just wanted to run and never stop, and Blake found me and I thought for just a minute it would make me feel better. Then I remembered who you were, and what you are to me, and that you're too important and too good to betray and I left! Please, Finnick, you have to believe me! Blake has been my friend for nine years, and I care about him." I finish my speech and realize that I almost screamed the words at him, and that he sat down in a pale blue chair.

"I wish I could pretend that I wasn't expecting it," he says, his voice small. "I've know you care about him, you always have. You've been friends with him longer than you have with me, and it's not fair of me. After all, you don't want to know how many women I've slept with in the two years we've been together," and the words sting my heart even though I know he does it to protect me. "You're only seventeen, Annie." The words are resigned, and I know what's coming next. "I understand why you almost kissed him, I really do. But I think it would be best if we spent a little while apart."

"_What?"_ I scream at him, not out of anger, but out of desperation.

"It'll do both of us some good. Take a break and find out what we want. Go on a date with Blake. I'll go on a couple of dates," and my heart breaks at the words. "And if we still want each other at the end of it, then we'll get back together. No questions asked." His eyes soften when he looks at me, but I feel my insides turning to stone. He said he understood, and he's still dumping me. I made a mistake, I know that. But he has to understand that I wasn't in the best state of mind. And that I do care about Blake. Only, he doesn't. He looks at me softly, and reaches up to touch my cheek. I swat his hand away. "No matter what, Annie, I'll always love you."

"No matter what I see, I'll always come back to you," I recite to him in a whisper, the last words I allow out of my mouth before I am running, running, running back to the Academy and back to someone whose arms won't deny me.

I walk into the Main Center of the Academy, where I know I'll find Blake. He's almost as obsessive-compulsive as me, and I know that even though it's well past midnight, he'll be tossing spears around.

"Blake?" I say, when I see him, in a small voice. I feel vulnerable and alone. Finnick doesn't want me because of what I did, and as low as it is, I need comfort from one of the only people that I care about.

"Annie? What's wrong?" He says in a panicked voice, and he runs over to me. I noticed his face is streaked with tears, but he takes me up in his arms and I just cry.

"F-f-finnick saw what happened with us and he dumped me," I choke out and it's barely intelligible, but he hears me. With surprisingly gentleness, considering he was just spearing dummies with considerable force, he runs his hands through my hair.

"It's okay, Annie, you'll get him back," he whispers, even though I know he doesn't want that. Neither does Finnick. Blake picks me up and carries me gently back to the dormitory, and I cry all the way. All the years I've known Blake, I've been so caught up in training and Finnick to realize how good he truly is. He was just one of my best friends that I used to have a crush on. And maybe I shoved down those old feelings for him once I realized my feelings for Finnick. Just because they aren't as strong as what I feel for Finnick doesn't mean they aren't real.

So with that thought fresh in my mind, I pull Blake face towards mine and I kiss him. He kisses me back for two seconds before he pulls away and says, "Annie, you love Finnick. I know you do."

"He doesn't know what he wants anymore. And neither do I," which isn't a complete lie. When I realized that it would probably be Blake and me in the Games, it opened up a range of emotions that I had been suppressing. For Finnick, always for Finnick. But I shove Finnick from my thoughts, because Blake lips come down hard on mine.

I've never been this kind of girl, but when Blake pulls my shirt over my head, I let him. When his runs his hands along my body, I let them go wherever they want. Because I like it, because I'm young, because I have feelings for him, because I want to forget the heartache rushing through me. Because I could be dead in a month.

When I wake up, I'm entangled in Blake's arms. Shame rushes through me, thick and hot and strong. _Oh my God. I'm so sorry, Finnick._ But I realize I have nothing to apologize for. Finnick told me to go out with Blake and see how I felt about him. _Go out with, not sleep with._ Whatever.

I feel Blake's eyes on me, and he looks awkward, too. "Look, Annie, I know we shouldn't have done what we did last night. But I'm not sorry."

"Why aren't you sorry?"

"Because I've been in love with you since we were fourteen." A rush of heat goes through me, but it's not unpleasant. "And maybe we won't both go to the Games. You never know. Let's just give it a shot."

"And if we're in the arena together?" I ask, because I can't avoid it.

"Then I'll get my dying wish. I've wanted this for three years, Annie." And I just nod, because I'm not sure. If I win, and he dies, will I be able to live with myself? What will I come home to? What if I lose Finnick forever?

I'm disgustingly selfish.

"Okay," I say slowly. "So where would we start?" I ask uncertainly.

"A date to the cafeteria?" He jokes, and I jump up. "Annie? Maybe some clothes?" I realize that I'm stark naked, and it doesn't bother me one bit. I feel bits of our old friendship resurfacing when I strike a pose.

"Is this distracting?" He laughs, and it's full, and I laugh too. But somewhere inside of me, my heart aches a little bit.

When I'm clothed, wearing a tight tank top and tight exercise pants, Blake and I walk to the cafeteria. He has his arm around my shoulders, and I have mine slung across his waist. I wonder idly what Finnick would think if he saw me like this.

But when the television turns on the cafeteria, I realize that it's impossible for him to see us. Because he took a late night train to the Capitol last night and is now wrapped around a pretty blonde girl, on some fancy date in a Capitol restaurant.

Usually, when I see Finnick like this on TV, it doesn't bother me because I know him well enough to tell that he's miserable. Usually, it seems so obvious that it's an act that it doesn't even phase me. And it helps that the girls he's usually with are hideously altered and unappealing. But this girl I would recognize anywhere. Cashmere Emerald, victor of the Games right before Finnick's, is absolutely beautiful and famous. Almost as much so as Finnick himself. Finnick always told me they were just friends, but I can see something in his eyes that contradicts that. He's looking at her the way he was looking at me, just two days ago. The way he always looked at me. Like I'm the only person in the world worth seeing.

But that's not true anymore. Maybe it was never true.

"Wow," Blake says, and he sounds angry. "That was quick."

"Let's not talk about it," I say. My voice is calm, even though my heart feels like it's made of rock. I did the same thing he's doing, and to get rid of the ache in my chest, I lean over and kiss Blake on the mouth.

Blake and I have spent two days bumming around the Academy because we had nothing better to do. We went swimming a few times, but it reminded me too much of Finnick, so we quit early. It's actually been nice. Blake tells me stories about when he realized he loved me, and I apologized for being so ignorant. I tell him I used to have a crush on him, and he tells me that he did too, so it's okay. We don't sleep together again, but we stay up all night talking and I find myself liking him more than I thought I would. The whole time, though, I ignore the nagging at the back of my mind. I ignore the voice in my head that screams for Finnick. Because Finnick isn't here, and I don't know if he ever will be.

Finnick struts around on TV with Cashmere, and I think he might have let go of me. There's something in his eyes when he looks at her that wasn't there when he looked at me. I don't know what it is, but it puts an ache into my heart.

When I tell Mags that night, she is angry with Finnick.

"You did make a mistake, Annie, but you're seventeen. I think Finnick forgets that. He's ready for this kind of relationship because of everything he's been through in the Capitol, but come on!" She sounds exasperated. "You've been training since you were nine. You never had time for anything but training and you are still so young. Annie, I love you like you're my own daughter, and I'm telling you now that it's okay to have feelings for this Blake boy. I know you love Finnick, but let yourself be young. If even for a couple of weeks." I smile gratefully at her, and she adds, "Finnick will see sense, believe me."

"I think he likes Cashmere," I say.

"He's hurt and it's likely he's throwing his feelings around and displacing his feelings for you onto her. But if he does truly like her, then you'll have to find a way to cope. Both of you. But he loves you, and you love him. You'll work it out."

We both ignore the fact that Blake or I could be dead soon.

"Hadley and Cresta!" Nadi booms out across the gym, and we look nervously at each other. Blake gives me a sloppy kiss and I return it. We walk, hand-in-hand, to the office where Gordon will be sitting. The people who completed the practical are called in pairs and are told whether they've been chosen or not. Blake and I are the last two.

"Hello, Annie, Blake. How are you two this morning?" Gordon says politely, but I don't feel like pleasantries this morning.

"Can you please just tell us whether we were chosen or not?" I say, nervously. I've been waiting for this for nine years, and I don't want to wait a second longer. Gordon nods and Blake grips my hand tightly.

Gordon slides two pieces of papers towards us, and I see that it's a contract and a waiver. I scream and Blake gasps. "Congratulations, you two. You've earned it. Please read through these. They're basically a guarantee of your participation in the Games and a waiver that your families will not attempt any retribution on the Academy should you be unsuccessful." Then it hits me. I'm going to the Games. I'm going to the Games. I sign my name with a flourish, and Blake does the same. Though I care about him and am dreading going into the Games with him, this is my dream.

When both of us turn our papers in, he briefs us on the Desensitizing Room. Blake asks, "Sir, can I make a request?" Gordon nods. "Annie and I are together, and we would really appreciate it if you put us in the same room for the desensitization. I know it's against protocol, but it would really help me focus for the Games."

Gordon is not a tough man to persuade. "That's lovely, you two," he gushes. "Going into the Games united will make you so much stronger. And I can't even imagine the sponsors you two will get. Of course, I'll see it done."

Nobody can undo what I'm about to see. Not Finnick or Blake. No one.

I've been screaming for about two hours now. The blood and death and horrors I've been seeing will never leave me. Blake is curled up in the corner.

I can't breathe. I see Titus ripping out the hearts of mutilated bodies and eating them, Enobaria tearing people's throats out with her bare teeth, and things so much worse that I can't even say. Blood, intestines, the slow beheading of a tribute with a small knife, so disgusting I throw up on the floor next to me.

We've been in here for almost a day. Our time is almost up. I didn't start screaming until twenty-two hours in. It was bearable until then. But it got worse. They cranked the volume so all we could hear is screams and people choking on blood and snapping bones and little girls saying their last words. And I lost it.

Blake is crying, and I'm screaming. When the images finally go away, all I can hear is my heartbeat. Nothing I see, ever again, will be worse than the last day was. Absolutely nothing.

And I know why they do this. I feel hardened. When Blake gets up, I can tell he does, too.

Before we walk out, Blake faces me and I wipe the tears off his face. He flattens my hair down. We touch our foreheads together, just like before our spars, and he whispers to me. He whispers the only thing that will ground me right now, the one thing that will bring me down to earth before we face the rest of the Academy.

"Just like in training. You and me."

When our names are announced, the cheer of the Academy students resonates throughout my body. Blake lifts our entwined hands in the air and I let a yell rip through my throat. District 4 will have a victor this year.

Finnick is absent when we're announced. I'm actually relieved not to see him, because it would just confuse me. I love Finnick, I know I do. I miss him. But I'm going into the Games with Blake, and despite what I feel for Finnick, there's a part of me that is growing to love Blake, too. I've never been more confused in my life.

We are given two weeks off before the Games to spend with our family and the people that we love. Blake asked me to come along to dinner with his parents and his younger sister, and I accepted. Their house is large and beautiful. It isn't nearly as big as Mags's house or Finnick's, but it's still beautiful.

When his parents see me, they smile. His father gives me a hug and says, "So this is the girl Blake's been talking about for so long. I thought you were with Odair, girl?"

I clear my throat and look both his parents in the eye. I hate talking about this, but I respect Blake too much to just smile and nod. "Yes, I was. For about two years. But he broke up with me because he realized there were feelings between Blake and me." His mother smiles at me, but I see tears in her eyes. "What's wrong, ma'am?" I ask her politely.

She smiles at me again and says, "I just wish there were some way for both of you to come home."

"Me, too," I surprise myself by saying. Do I really wish that? But I know the answer in my heart.

We sit down for a nice meal of fried chicken, and his sister talks my ear off about how she's going to start training soon, and how she really admires me. I smile and talk to her, and she takes me to her room to show me the shell bracelets that she makes.

"Annie?" She asks tentatively, and I smile. "Will you take this to the arena with you?" She asks, and I see the beautiful bracelet with light blue shells dangling from it. Tears, unexpected and strange, spring to my eyes and I nod, unable to speak.

This is not good. I'm getting far too attached to Blake, and one of us will die. I excuse myself from Tallie's room, and find Blake.

"Blake, do you mind if we head to my parents' house? They still don't know that I'm volunteering." He jumps up from the couch, and hugs his mother. Blake heads for the door, but I hear his parents telling me to wait, just for a moment.

I walk over to Blake's mother, and she hugs me gently. I almost don't catch her whispering, "No matter what, we will never hold it against you." I don't know exactly what she means, so I just thank her and hug her father.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality. I'll be sure to stop over a few times before the Reaping." They all wave at me, and we walk out the door.

We sit on the beach for a while, because I'm not sure I want to see my mother. Blake holds me, but in this moment, I'm wishing for Finnick. "What are we going to do?" I ask him, very quietly.

"Annie, I've been meaning to tell you this," and when he speaks, there is an onslaught of dread in my mind. Will he break up with me? Tell me that only one can live and it should be him? "I want you to win." When I don't respond, he continues. "Listen, Annie. I know it's stupid and it goes against instinct and whatever the Games are about. But when we were in that terrible room, I was imagining every dead body as yours, every scream as yours, and I couldn't take it. You were a tribute in my practical. I can't do it. I can't kill you. And if it comes down to it, I'll do anything to keep you safe in that arena."

"Why didn't you just decline and volunteer next year, Blake?"

"Because at least this way, I won't have to live with the guilt of killing so many other people. I'll die with dignity, and my death will mean something. I don't want to live without you."

"How can you say this when I've only realized my feelings for you in the last few days?"

"That doesn't change the fact that I love you, Annie. Every day in training, when we would spar, you'd rest your forehead against mine and I swear to God I could see into your soul. I know who you are. I've known you for nine years, and even if I didn't love you this way, I wouldn't want to go on without you. You're too important, Annie. You're too good. Friends or couple, I don't want to be here without you," he says, and I realize how meaningless my life will be if Blake dies. I'll lose one of the only friends I've ever had. I would spend every day remembering those days when we would fight, and he would pull my hair, telling me 'Good fight, Cresta. But you could be better.' I would miss the gloating and the teasing. Sure, I would have Finnick, if he still wanted me, but these few days have made me realize the kind of person Blake truly is. And his words make me realize that he is too good for these Games.

"Please don't die, Blake," I whisper, and he kisses me. In this kiss, I feel the same as I did with Finnick, and it makes my heart ache. When we break apart, I cry. I cry for Blake, who wants to die for me. I cry for how happy these last few days have made me. I cry for Finnick, who is in the Capitol, far away from me. I cry for Finnick, because he is getting further and further away from me every day. I cry for Finnick, always for Finnick.

When I knock on the door of my family's house, it's Murdoch who answers. He smiles at me and envelopes me in a bone crushing hug, and is joined by Dylan soon. I almost cry because I've missed them so much. I haven't been home once since my mother said those awful things, and now I'm here simply because I'm going to be a tribute in the Games. It makes me feel horrible.

"Murry, Dylan, this is Blake. He's been one of my best friends for nine years," I say simply, and leave it at that. I know Blake isn't hurt by it.

"Pleasure to meet you both," Blake says, shaking my brothers' hands. "Annie never shuts up about you two." They howl with laughter and make a few jokes at my expense, but I know the question lurking behind Dylan's eyes: _Where's Finnick?_

"Can you please bring mom and dad out the living room? I have something to tell you guys." I say, and my voice shakes with nerves. I don't know what they'll think, but it's too late now.

When they're all gathered in front of me, and I've introduced Blake to my parents, I sit down in the armchair by the television. I avoid my mother's eyes. I don't know how to tell them. I look helplessly at Blake, who seems to sense my hesitance. He begins to speak. "Annie and I, about a week ago, were selected to take the test determining our eligibility for the Hunger Games. Annie and I received word today that we are the two selected volunteers that will represent District 4."

The room is silent. My father, after about thirty seconds, gets up and crushes me in a hug. My brothers start to cheer, and they all hug me. But my mother sits, still as a rock, and just looks at me. Searches my eyes. Apparently, she didn't find in them what she was looking for, because she gets up and walks out of the room.

Before she leaves, though, she looks at me with no emotion and says, "Good luck, Annie."


	9. Chapter 9

Blake and I spend the rest of the two weeks off lounging on the beach, or at Mags's house. I decided to introduce Blake to Mags because she'll be his mentor, and Mags really did want to meet him. As much as she loves Finnick, she loves me too, and she wanted to know the person I care about.

Our last evening at Mags's house, we are sitting and drinking tea in the living room. When Blake goes to the bathroom, I lean over and ask Mags, "Where is Finnick?" The desperation in my voice is obvious, and she frowns.

"I don't know. He hasn't called me, except once, to tell me that he would be back on Reaping Day. He has told me nothing, otherwise." I can tell this worries her, and I try to act like it doesn't worry me, but it does. A lot.

"Will he ever forgive me?" I ask, desperation still coloring my voice.

"Who do you love, Annie?" And her voice isn't angry, it's urgent. Caring. Concerned.

"I love Finnick more than anything. But I think I'm starting to love Blake. I don't know."

"Then you'll have to figure out whether to die in the arena because you don't want to live without Blake, or realize that you can't die because you told Finnick you would come back. That is the choice you have to make, my dear. And it isn't an easy one." I just nod, because it's true. I haven't thought about it this way, and I need to.

Blake comes out from the bathroom, and I tell him that I think I'll stay here with Mags tonight. He nods, and I walk him out. On the front porch, he leans his forehead against mine, and he doesn't have to say the words. I look him in the eyes, and can't ignore the flecks of gold in his iridescent blue eyes. When he walks away, his dark haired head fades into the night, and I've never been more lost in my life.

I go back into Mags's house, and I lay down with my head in her lap, the way I have so many times before.

"Mags," I admit to her. "I'm scared." I've never said it out loud before, but I'm relieved now that I do.

"I was, too. We all were. But you're brave, and you can win. I love you, my dear. Everything will be okay. You'll make the right choice." She says sweetly, and places a kiss on the top of my head.

Midnight passes, and I can't sleep. I make a rash, stupid decision and walk silently out the door of Mags's house. I don't know where I'm going, but I find myself at Blake's house soon enough. I don't even know which room he sleeps in. I'm an idiot.

But I remember teasing him when we were eleven because he couldn't sleep in the dark. He had to have the light on. So I walk round the house until I find the only room that has a lit window. I grab a small pebble, and toss it at the window, like Finnick did so many times. Blake sticks his head out, and when he sees me, sticks his head back in. He's outside within a matter of seconds.

"Annie? Are you—" But I cut his words off with a kiss, because I'm desperate to tell him that I'm sorry for not paying attention to him in the past, I'm sorry that we're doing this together, that I might be in love with him, that I'm sorry I still love Finnick so much more. But I can't say the words, so I just kiss him. He picks me up in his strong arms, and carries me down to the beach. He lays me down in the sand, his lips never leaving mine, and I'm glad. I'm glad I have this person in my life. I'm glad for this moment, when every bad thing I've been feeling goes away with the touch of his lips.

I don't care that I'm naked on the beach with one of my best friends. I don't care that anyone in the district could see us right now if they wanted to. All I care about is making sure Blake is loved, and the fire on my skin and the warm feeling of contentment that spreads through my body after we're done. I don't care about anything else.

We fall asleep on the beach, and I wake up at sunrise. I shake Blake awake, because I thought he'd want to see this sunrise before we left District 4, possibly forever. My clothes are on, but all he has on are boxers. We watch the sunrise together, and he gets dressed.

He looks at me, but his eyes barely touch mine. "I'll see you at the Reaping, Annie." I just nod my head, and go to Finnick's house, where all of my things are.

When I open the front door with his spare key, I scream. Finnick is sitting on the couch, and looks like he's been waiting for me. My heart starts to beat faster, not because of what I've done, not because of what he's done, but because he's in front of me. And he's so beautiful that I run to him.

"Annie," he says my name like a prayer. "Annie." I'm crying, and all I can do is hug him. I want to tell him I'm sorry, but I can't.

"Finnick," I manage to choke out. "Where have you been?" He lets out a bitter laugh but I know there are tears in his eyes.

"The Capitol." That's all he says. And now, instead of being happy, I'm so angry with him I could scream. But I won't, because I want to fix this with him. I want to make a decision before I go in the arena.

"I really care about Blake," I blurt out. "I think I always did." But to my surprise, he doesn't look sad. He just smiles.

"I know that, Annie. When I arrived in the Capitol, the president had a video to show me. Of the dormitories." My jaw drops, because this is the last thing I want. I slept with Blake, trying to drown my sorrows, and he knows. But he's still smiling. "I was so angry, so blind with anger, when I saw it. But I just kept watching, until you fell asleep. Right before I was about to shut it off I heard something."

"What did you hear?"

"You said my name. You were laying, naked, with him, and you said my name. I know this is hard for you, Annie. I know. And I can't judge you because I did worse," he says.

"Cashmere?"

"I was trying to forget you, Annie. Trying so hard to love someone else. I care about her, you know. I do. But there were times when I would be laying with her, thinking I could really forget you this time, and you would materialize in my mind. I would ache for you so badly. I was homesick for you, Annie."

"I'm a person."

"You're my home," he says.

"Finnick," I begin, and he nods. "I need you to tell me what to do. I love you and I think I could love Blake, but not the same. I don't know what I'll do if he dies. I don't even know if I want him to die," I admit, and there's a hint of sadness in Finnick's eyes. But he doesn't show it. "Please tell me what to do."

"Who would you rather live without?" The question is simple, but it sets off a war in my mind. Blake, who laughed with me and fought with me and touched foreheads with me and made every day amazing for the last nine years. Blake, who I trust with my life, even in an arena where we fight to the death. Blake, who is selfless and kind and _good._ Better than me, better than the Games. My life without Blake in it would be miserable.

My heart is breaking, though, when I think about my life without Finnick. It's always Finnick. The best moments of my life have been with Finnick. He knows me better than any other person alive. Would I rather die and save Blake, who already said he couldn't live without me, and leave Finnick alone forever, or give Blake what he wants? Live a life with Finnick, wake up every morning next to Finnick? Both choices seem incredibly selfish.

"I love you, Finnick." I say, and I walk upstairs to get ready for the Reaping.

Ironically, I wear the same thing I wore to the festival with Finnick. I slip on some gold gladiator sandals, and walk to the bathroom. I look stunning, and I refuse to be modest about it. It's my day, the day I've dreamed of for years. I try to shut my mind off and instead focus on the primal joy that was racing through my veins when the students chanted 'Annie!' after I was chosen. I try not to think about Blake, or Finnick, or my brothers. Only of myself, and what I need to do to win this.

It's at this moment, I realize I've made my choice. I might love Blake, but he loves me more. I might love Blake, but I love Finnick more. I can't kill Blake. I refuse to kill Blake. But I won't make him live without me. My heart begins to ache when I think of not being able to see Blake's face every day, not seeing his smile, not touching foreheads. When tears come on, I try and shove them down. Instead of crying, I punch the wall, over and over again, alternating between left and right. Suppress your emotions and give in to your animal instincts. That's always what they tell us at the Academy, and that's what I do now.

Finnick runs into the room and grabs my arms and pins them behind me. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Annie?"

"Finnick," I whimper. "Finnick." My body heaves with sobs, but no tears come out. Instead, I'm sobbing and wailing and sounding like a complete animal. "I'm going to miss Blake. What am I going to do without Blake?"

"Baby, it's okay," he runs his hand through my hair as I sob more. He ignores the fact that I've made my decision. "He loves you, you love him. Whenever you miss him, just think of what he'd say to you," Finnick's voice is quiet and I'm in awe at how he can be so selfless.

"I love him?" Finnick nods. "But I love you more."

"I know, Ann, I know. It's okay." When I'm through with my fit, I stand up and look in the mirror. Nothing has changed. Still beautiful.

Still strong.

Finnick goes and talks to Blake not long after that. I know Blake won't be upset, and I wouldn't be able to stand myself, knowing that I'm being selfish and he's just as happy either way. Just because I'm there.

I'm alone in Finnick's house, and I decide to leave. The Reaping is in an hour, and I can't just sit here. My desperation has passed—somewhat—and now I am an excited ball of energy. I look around the room that was my home for the months after I left my parents', and say a silent goodbye.

I go to Finnick's room, and see the photograph of us sitting on his side table. A year ago. Mags took the picture when we weren't paying attention. We are sitting on her porch swing, and I lean into him. He is leaning down, whispering something in my ear, and my smile stretches from ear to ear.

I wonder if we'll ever be the same as the boy and the girl in the photograph.

I close the front door behind me, and remind myself that the next time I come to Victor's Island, I'll have a house of my own.


	10. Chapter 10

Camilla mounts the stage, and I tune out her stupid speech. I can't stand the woman. She tries to fit in with her ocean themed outfits, but honestly? Does she not know the different between the shade of blue that's the ocean and sky blue? While I gawk at her idiocy, she reads a speech about the Dark Days and honor and glory and repenting. I've heard it a total of six times, now. At least it's the last time I'll hear it from rickety wood of the pier. Next year, I'll be on the stage with the other victors.

All of them are up there now. There are thirteen victors from District 4, and they are all alive. Mags, of course, is the oldest. District 4 is somewhat known for its female tributes, because there are more female victors than male from this district. There are seven female and six male. Our female victors are incredible. And I'll be the best.

I'm so focused on them that I almost miss Camilla saying shrilly, "Ladies first!" into the microphone. This is it. This is my time. "Isabel Fabian!" A girl from my age group, but not a student at the Academy walks confidently up to the stage. She knows she won't have to participate in the Games. When Camilla asks for volunteers, she doesn't even get to finish her sentence because my hand is already in the air.

"I volunteer!" My voice is loud and strong, and the crowd breaks into roaring applause at my words.

"And what's your name, my dear?" I think about how much sweeter that term sounds when Mags uses it, and I reply.

"Annie Cresta, ma'am," I say confidently, and smile at the crowd.

"Well then, ladies and gentlemen, meet Annie Cresta! Now, let's pick our male tribute for the 70th Annual Hunger Games!" I find Blake in the crowd, and he winks at me, seemingly not upset about what Finnick told him. I smile at him, and I only see a hint of sadness in his eyes when he smiles back. I feel a pang in my chest for what I've lost. But I turn around and see Finnick, green eyes sparkling, and something rekindles inside of me. Always for FInnick.

"Now, we'll select the male tribute for District 4!" She totters over to the second glass bowl, and pulls out a slip of paper. "Isaiah Robertson!" After a moment, I see a boy emerge from the section roped off for 12 year olds, and I feel a little sympathy for this boy. He believes he is condemned for death. It's his first Reaping. "Any volunteers for young Isaiah?"

"I volunteer!" Blake shouts, and he pumps his fist as he runs to the stage. Always trying to outdo me. I stifle a laugh, because it would look stupid and I'm on camera.

"Ladies and gentlemen of District 4, your tributes for the 70th Annual Hunger Games, Blake Hadley and Annie Cresta!" The audience applauds, cheers, and screams for us, and I realize that this is it. We're tributes now.

For the first time in my life, I look out to ocean desperately and think morbidly that this might be the last time I see it. I'm seized with panic when the waves crash into shore, because I don't know if I'll ever hear the sound again. When I look out the endless blue horizon, my stomach begins to roil because I don't know if I'll ever be able to submerge myself in its infinity.

"Tributes, shake hands!" I look to Blake and he has the same look in his eyes. How peculiar we are. We spent nine years training for this moment, and here we are, scared. But I put on my toughest face for the camera and extend my hand to Blake coolly. To my surprise, he chuckles and sweeps me up in a hug, which the audience eats up. I see what we're doing now. Playing the Games. I pinch him on the arm and smile adoringly at him. Let them figure that out.

I turn and look at the ocean. I say my silent goodbyes and see you laters to the vast body of water that has been my home since I was a child. And I don't look back.

Blake and I are walked, by Peacekeepers, from the pier to the Justice Building on the new seawall. I've never been inside, but when I walk in, I'm unimpressed. After all, how could I be when I've been in Finnick's house?

I'm ushered into a room by Peacekeepers and wait for my visitors. God knows who they'll be. My dad and brothers come first, obviously. My dad gives me a hug and tells me that I can win this, and I nod, because I know it's true. He tells me that I've made him so proud, that he believes in me, and that he loves me. My brothers both hug me, but they don't encourage me. I knew they wouldn't. They don't want it to go to my head, and odds are, they're worried about me.

"We love you, Annie," my father says.

"We'll see you in a few weeks, Annie," Dylan says.

"Can't wait to move into your new house, Annie," Murdoch says.

But I can't help but think of what stands in the way of this. The murder of children. The death of Blake.

When Finnick comes in, I run into his arms. "You looked great up there, Ann," he says warmly. I just hug him tighter, because although I'm trained and confident and excited, I'm also scared. Scared I'll never see the ocean again, scared of what my family will think of me if I win. Scared of having to live without Blake. Scared that I'll never see Finnick again. "Annie, you can win this. I know you can, and for some reason, I know you will. And I'm not just saying that," he adds.

"I don't want Blake to die."

"I don't want you to die." Finnick looks down at me, his eyes penetrating mine, and he's telling me silently that I can't leave him. That he would die without me. That there's no meaning to life without me.

And I nod.

When we're finally on the train, I knock on Blake's compartment door, quietly. When the door opens, he smiles widely at me and waves me in. I give him a small smile, and walk to his bed. He studies me for a few minutes before I break the silence.

"Funny to think we were naked on the beach less than twelve hours ago." The words carry no malice, but they sting anyways. Because I think I do love this boy. But I can't save him.

If there were any way for both of us to get out alive, I would do it in a heartbeat.

"Blake, I love you," I blurt out, wishing I could take back the words, but at the same time, glad I said them out loud. Glad that he could hear them from me before one of us dies.

He smiles at me. "Annie," he begins, and I close my eyes so I don't have to see him. "You know I love you. You know that I don't care whether you're with Finnick or me. You know I'm willing to die for you, to protect you." His voice is shaking and I look up to see tears in his eyes. "I know it's selfish for me to ask, but please make the last few weeks of my life mean something. Please don't shut me out, because you wouldn't be helping me at all." One single, solitary tear drips down his cheek, and I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb.

"I love Finnick, too, you know."

"I know, Annie. When Finnick came to me, I told him that he had better treat you well, that you were the best friend I ever had. I told him that you love him, and that's good. He told me that you love me, too, and that embracing it for a little while is better than denying it for the last few weeks we might be alive. He told me what you said," he finishes.

"What did I say?"

"That you were going to miss me. That you didn't know what you were going to do without me."

"Well, it's true." That's all I say, and we stay silent for a long time. He takes my hand, and I rub circles on his with my thumb. We don't look at each other. We don't talk. We just sit.

"You two are all the Capitol can talk about!" Camilla shrieks when we emerge in the dining room. Great. Ms. Peppy is here to tell us how awesome we are. "The hug, the smiles! They're sure you two are an item, and there is nothing we Capitolites love more than a good romance!" She titters on about how adorable we are, and neither of us say anything. So we're already branded as a couple for the world to see, and I'm not sure what to make of that. I won't know what to make of it until Finnick tells me. Where is Finnick? Even with Blake next to me, it's all I can do to not run to his room and tell him how much I love him, tell him that I'm sorry that I love someone else, too.

"Annie," I hear Mags say. I was so zoned out I didn't realize she had arrived. I give her a big smile and run to hug her.

"Hi, Mags," I say warmly, and she pats my cheek. I lower my voice to a whisper. "I think I figured it out. Partially," I add. She gives me a gummy smile, and we go to the dinner table. When the food arrives, I'm in awe. Even though District 4 is a wealthy one, I've never seen food like this in my life. There are about six selections of soup, one with lamb and rice, one that's dark purple in color, one that's orange with black seeds, and a few more of various colors. There's roast beef soaked in a dark sauce and breads from every district, chocolate sauce with strawberries, and coffee. I instantly pour myself a cup and drain in it in a few seconds.

When we're done eating, I'm completely stuffed and feeling a little queasy. The food is too rich for my digestive system to handle, and I can tell Blake is looking a little green as well. I poke him in the belly and he doubles over and scowls at me.

"Carefull, Ann, or I'll puke all over the chocolate."

"You wouldn't dare. Unless you wanted a knife to the heart," I joke, and surprisingly, he laughs.

"My most delicious dream, that is. A knife from Annie Cresta to the heart." I giggle at him, and he puts an arm around my shoulders. "Want to go watch the other Reapings?" I nod, and we sink into a large plush blue couch and turn on the TV. Even though we're practically cuddling, Blake and I transition into Academy mode. Studying our opponents, finding their weaknesses, and figuring out how to exploit them. Just like before a spar. I can tell Blake is thinking the same thing, because he leans his forehead down to touch mine, and whispers, "Time to train, Cresta." I laugh a little and turn my gaze to the TV.

The two from District 1 are classic examples of trained tributes. They run up to the stage to volunteer. I don't catch their names, and I find myself not wanting to know them. Why would I want to know their names if I have to kill them later? Waste of time. The boy has a large build, but lacks any serious muscle tone. He won't be able to win a fight against Blake, or me. We both spent copious amounts of time toning and muscling our bodies, wanting to be as strong as possible.

The girl is smaller and thinner, but isn't very well toned at all. They must have considerable talent with a weapon to be volunteering without physically prowess, I decide. Neither look particularly wily or quick, so I write them off as temporarily useful allies but easy opponents. Neither of them are that beautiful, physically. Blake and I make them look like ugly ducklings.

The pair from two are a different story. The girl and boy are about the same height as Blake, and heavily muscled. The girl's right arm is more muscled than the left, meaning that she uses a trajectory weapon and is right hand dominant. Too large for knives, I think. Probably weighted spears. Doesn't look like she's mentally prepared for the Games.

The boy is blond, and has a maniacal look in his eye, and I automatically mark him as my number one opponent. He will be ruthless and brutal and probably cruel.

District Three passes, and I write them off as casualties at the Cornucopia. Both are small, young, and weak.

Then it's me and Blake. When I volunteer, my voice is incredibly strong, and I have to admire my physical condition on the stage. I look strong, confident, intelligent, beautiful, and excited. I am a force to be reckoned with. When Blake charges the stage, he looks about the same as me. The sun gleams off his dark hair, and he looks handsome. Strong. And when he picks me up and hugs me, I know that we've unintentionally captured the hearts of Panem.

District Five creeps past, with small, famished tributes. The girl from 6 looks strong enough, but I don't think she's a killer. The boy from District 7, however, looks like he could put an axe through my face without a second thought. He looks strong and physically well rounded. I put him at the top of my kill list.

Nothing interesting happens until District 11, when a large, dark boy leaps up to volunteer, and I'm shocked. The boy he volunteered for did not look like a family member, yet he lacks bloodlust. He's very large and looks capable. Maybe he did it for the chance to help his family out. Who knows. District 12 is just depressing, because their tributes look like they could blow away in the wind. Districts 11 and 12 have the most starving population in Panem. Pity stings my heart as I see the boy, only 12 years old, shake his partner's hand unsteadily. Their mentor is passed out drunk on the stage.

I don't let the pity stay long, because they're all my opponents. I snuggle up to Blake for a little while, and he breaks the silence by saying, "The boy from 7 looks dangerous."

I nod and respond, "And the boy from 11. I also don't think we should stay allies with District 2 any longer than we have to." He nods his head in agreement, and I lean my head against his shoulder so I can look up at him. He has a striking jawline, and full lips that look appealing and soft. "Blake," I say softly, and he looks down at me. "You're by far the best looking tribute this year."

"Next to you, Annie Cresta. You blew them all away." He kisses my cheek, and when I turn, Finnick is standing there.

"Hey, guys," he says casually. I can tell he doesn't like this, but he doesn't let on. I as good as told him this morning that it was him, that it was always him. That it would always be him.

"Hey, Finnick," Blake says, a little awkwardly, and takes his arm out from around me. I feel a little bit colder without his arms.

"Did you get a good look at your competition? And have you decided to train together or separately?"

"Together," I say with conviction. "And yes. The boys from 2, 7, and 11 are our biggest threats."

"Weaknesses?" He asks, going into trainer mode.

"The boy from 2 doesn't have many, it seems. He's well-muscled and looks like he wields a sword, which is good for people that have skill with trajectory weapons, like Annie and me. But he looks thirsty for blood," Blake answers.

"The boy from 7 looks ruthless and I'm sure he'll be able to throw an axe pretty well, considering his district's trade. Might lack experience in close quarters combat, which is good for us. I can't quite figure out District 11, though. A volunteer from an outlying district but doesn't look particularly eager to kill. Probably has family," I finish lamely.

"Well, keep an eye on him during training. Speaking of which, since you damned yourselves with the public display of affection, you have to keep it up. It'll get you sponsors, not that you'll need anymore. You two will have the Capitol eating out of the palms of your hands. The first day of training, your goal is intimidation. But keep one skill to yourself, for the time being. You two are well trained in survival and combat, so basically do whatever makes you comfortable. But don't show your entire skill set."

"Got it," Blake and I say at the same time.

"You wanted to talk to me?" I ask apprehensively after I've walked into his compartment. But Finnick just smiles and pats the bed next to him.

"Missed you, Annie," he says simply, and I look at him warily. He rolls his eyes at me and asks, "How are you handling this?"

"Fine. I'm prepared."

"You know what I meant," he shoots back.

"I want to survive. I want to win, I mean. I'm just confused about you and Blake, you know. I don't want you to hold anything against me. It's selfish, I know, but I can't help it. I care about him and he told me he wanted me to make these few weeks mean something. And I don't want him to die thinking I don't care about him, because I do. But there's you, there's always you."

"Ann," he says, but I don't let him finish.

"I find myself missing you all the time, Finnick. I think about how much I'll miss Blake if I win, and I think about what you'll do if I don't. Round and round, two by two. I can't win either way, so what can I do but be selfish? You're always in my mind, Finnick. But he's somewhere in there, too."

"Annie!" he raises his voice. "Just think, for a moment, about all of the girls I've slept with over the years! Do you think you deserve that? No, of course you don't! And before you say anything, no one forced me to sleep with Cashmere! No one forced me to like her! Be selfish for once, damn it. I don't care what you do, just come back to me!" His face is red, but his voice turns soft and gentle. "Blake is a genuinely good person. I've gathered that. He deserves someone to care about him, and I don't care if it's you. I know you love me; I know you love me more than you could ever love him. And, cruel as it sounds, that's what will get me through this. I love you, Annie, I love you more than you could ever imagine. And I'll die if you don't win, I swear I will. So please, promise me that no matter what you feel that you'll win."

"No matter what I see, I'll always come back to you," I recite to him in a hushed whisper, and for a moment, I can imagine that we're sitting on the beach at home. He's playing with my hair, and I'm talking about what it was like to fish every day out at sea. He stares at me like I'm the only thing worth looking at, and there's fire all over my body where ever his eyes touch.

"No matter what, Annie, I'll always love you."

I fall asleep right there in Finnick's room, with him brushing the hair from my forehead like they're the fears plaguing my heart.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Hi guys! I don't know how many of you have gotten this far, but if you have, I'm so glad! I originally just wanted to write this fanfiction for myself, because a lot of Annie/Finnick ones had left me disappointed. But I got so lost in the idea that I had to share it. I wasn't originally planning on this love triangle thing, but it just appeared. I guess I'm just trying to put myself in Annie's shoes because it would be confusing to be in love with one man and have feelings for another, and to know that no matter what you feel for the other one, he has to die in order to come back to the one you love. It would be excruciating, and I know that if I were her, I would be caught between them-no matter how much more I loved one of them-lost in all of the emotions I would be feeling. But maybe that's just me! Any comments or constructive criticism you have for me are GREATLY appreciated, and I'm so grateful for everyone reading this story. Obviously, if I owned anything related to the Hunger Games, I wouldn't be writing this right now. All rights to Suzanne Collins, goddess of fiction!**

"Up, up, up!" I hear Camilla yell, and I put my pillow over my face. Damn this woman and her obnoxious voice. Couldn't a simple knock suffice? I sit up and realize that I'm back in my room. Finnick must have carried me back here sometime last night, after I fell asleep in his bed. Annie Cresta, maneater. I laugh to myself, because it's either laughing or crying, and laughing is a lot less exhausting. I love two boys, two love me. But I have to let one of them die if I want to come back to the other. I chuckle again, but it sounds dark and bitter. Two years ago, I was so wrapped up in Finnick I couldn't imagine being in this position. But I know it was meant to be this way, so I pull myself out of bed and walk to the bathroom.

After choosing sandalwood scented shampoo and conditioner, I quickly scrub my body and step out of the shower and onto the body dryer. The body dryer is amazing, I decide. It dries my body and hair completely in just one second, and my normal wavy dark hair is pin straight and glossy. Lovely.

I peek through the cabinets in the bathroom, looking for a little bit of makeup. We arrive in the Capitol today, so I want to look my best for potential sponsors, who will get their first look at us. I know my prep team will take it off and redo it before the Opening Ceremonies, but I do it anyways.

In the cabinet above the toilet, I find more makeup than I've ever seen before. So I guess it's encouraged. I just line my eyes with dark pencil, making the green color pop, swipe on a few coats of dark mascara, sweep on some peach colored blush, and apply simple tinted lip balm. _Perfect,_ I think. Simple but perfect.

From the massive closet, I select a grey-blue dress that has long sleeves and a high neckline, but exposes much of my bare back. The dress is made of silk and falls well above my knees. I belt it at the waist, slip on some grey sandals, and walk to the dining car to have breakfast.

"Annie Cresta, don't you look wonderful this morning?" Camilla chirps. She's still wearing her trademark sky blue. I successfully fight the urge to roll my eyes, and thank her instead. "We'll be at the Capitol in less than an hour, so it's imperative that your district partners and mentor wake up," she says with a small scowl on her face. Why is this my problem?

"Would you like me to go wake them?" Plastering a fake smile on my face, I ask her politely.

"Oh, dear that would be so lovely. Thank you!" So I walk first to Finnick's compartment, eager to see him again. I knock and mimick Camilla's voice.

"Up, up, up! We have a very important day today!" And I hear Finnick groan. I open the door slightly and see him tangled in his bed sheets, bare chester. What a sight.

"Wake up, Finny," I say gently. "We'll be arriving in an hour." He turns slightly and sees that it's me at the door, and not Camilla. But he only gives me a small smile instead of the one I've come to expect from him in the last few years. I frown. "Finnick? What's wrong?" I ask, stepping into his room, uninvited.

"I'm just dreading this, you know. I have to act like I don't care about you and I have to sleep my way through half of the population. The Games are my busiest time of the year. But at least it'll get you guys more sponsors," he says grumpily. "Just prepare yourself," his voice softening a little. "I can't be the Finnick that you love when we're here. At least not in front of them." I nod my head a little, because really, I do understand. But I love Finnick no matter what, and I know that he does this to protects Mags and me.

"I'm going to go wake Blake," I say, excusing myself from the room. When I shut the door, I hear a pillow hit the wall.

"Blllaaakkkkeeee," I call through the wooden door. "Wake up, sleepyhead! It's time to perform!" In an instant, his door is open and a wide smile is on his face. I find myself smiling back, more genuinely than I did when I saw Finnick, because Blake's face is like a breath of fresh air pushing its way into my lungs. He picks me up and hugs me, rendering me unable to breathe for a few seconds. I like when he hugs me like this. It's comforting, especially now that Finnick will be distant from here on out. _Please make the last few weeks of my life mean something. _A promise that I'll keep, Blake. I swear.

"Good morning," my voice is shy and quiet, and I realize I missed Blake. And I realize again that he may not have that long to live, so I push him into his room and kiss him.

"You don't have to do this, Annie. I know you love Finnick."

"But I love you, too," I say, and I know how wrong it is of me to be doing this, but I can't help it. I want both of them, I love both of them, and I'm losing Blake soon. I want to make memories that will last me for the rest of my life.

So he kisses me back, and it's gentle and sweet and everything that I want and need from Blake. After a few moments, though, I break away. "We're going to have to be a couple again," I say gently, not that either of us mind. "Camilla said it meant sponsors, lots of them."

"And it means I get to spend my last few weeks with you, Annie," he says, but his tone is happy and not remotely sad. "Don't argue, Ann. You know what I want and I don't want to hear any more arguments. Let's go eat. You look beautiful, by the way." I feel a hot blush creep into my cheeks, but I play it off and tell him that of course I look beautiful, I'm Annie Cresta.

As soon as we're in the dining room, Mags begins to talk to us about what to expect. "Now, when you get to the Remake Center, they are going to do some things to you that you might not like. Don't complain, don't protest, because it will help you in the long run. District 4 has some of the best stylists, so you won't look like fools. When you're on the chariot, I want you to smile, wave, and hold hands. You two are going to be presented as a team, maybe even a couple. Always, always, always stick together. Not just for the audience, but for yourselves. I know how you two feel about each other and I know you will protect each other when it comes down to it. Okay, now when we pull up to the train station, there will be crowds and cameras, lots of them. You two made a huge impression at the Reaping when you volunteering and embraced each other. They are here not just for Finnick," Finnick rolls his eyes, "but for you as well. Hold hands, and act the part. Although I don't think you'll be acting that much." Mags finishes her long speech, and I tick off what she said in my brain. Let the prep team torture you and don't complain, got it. Smile and wave, check. Act like we're in love and always stay together, sounds good. I give Mags a tired smile and she returns it.

When the food arrives, we don't have long before the train is at the station. So I quickly drink some strong coffee, dig into my massive serving of eggs and have two bagels. When the train starts to slow down, I put on a smile, because I actually do want to be here. I do want to compete in the Games. Blake touches his forehead to mine, and I smile. But before the train stops, I look back at Finnick. He has put his Capitol mask on, but when his eyes touch mine, he mouths, "I love you," and I do the same. He points at Blake's back, and I take it as a sign that the Games are beginning. I grab Blake's hand and whisper, "You and me."

He looks down at me, tears in his eyes. "You and me," he whispers back.

Let the Games begin.

My prep team is bizarre. Julius is a tall, rail thin man whose skin, hair, and make up are all varying shades of green. Livia is small and plump, but has bright, electric orange hair that stands in spikes all over her head. Her skin is a normal color, but there are gold tattoos all over her face. Lauren, however, is so nondescript it is frightening. It seems she had her eyes, hair, and skin all done in the same color: plain beige. No wild makeup adorns her face, no crazy clothing. Just beige, from head to foot. I try to tone out their loud screeching, but find myself listening to it and kind of enjoying it. They're like innocent little animals, and I can't help but smile at them from time to time.

"Julius, how long have we been waiting for a tribute that looks like Annie?" Lauren titters. I blush, and Julius smiles at me, revealing bright white teeth.

"You're almost as good-looking as Finnick Odair, my dear. The Capitol loves you and your partner so far. Absolutely adores you."

The prep team tears every hair from my body and I have to stifle my screams and tell myself it will be over soon, and it is. They rub me down with a cream that feels like heaven, and wash my hair. I step onto the body dryer and they polish my skin with a weird little machine. I try to look in the mirror to see what they're doing to me, but Livia blocks it. "Not until Lanie is done with you, missy."

I nod my assent, and the woman that must be my stylist, Lanie, walks in the room. She is surprisingly normal, with plain black hair and black eyes that contrast against her pale white skin. She is dressed in all white. She walks over to me and extends her hand. "Lanie, my dear. I've heard plenty about you," her voice is low and rough, but kind.

"Are you Finnick's stylist, too?" I ask, and she nod with a smile on her face. She begins to circle my naked body, scrutinizing and studying it until I begin to feel uncomfortable.

"You are absolutely lovely, my dear. You're beginning to rival Finnick in the looks department." I put my robe on, and Lanie sits down and takes my hand.

"What's the plan?" I ask.

"District 4 is one of the easiest districts to style, because we get our inspiration from the ocean. You won't be a fish or an octopus, but a mermaid. A deadly, beautiful siren of the sea. What do you think?"

"I think it's perfect," I say honestly. Lanie claps her hands and the prep team moves into motion, one of them curling my hair with a wand, the other painting designs on my nails and on my body, and the last one doing the makeup on my face. Lauren weaves strands of blue and light green through my hair as she curls, and I look down to see little green wave patterns drawn on my arms.

What feels like an entire day later, Lanie walks back into the room with a garment bag, grinning devilishly. "Are you ready, Annie?" She says, her voice excited.

"Ready as I'll ever be, ma'am." Lanie pulls out two large seashells that are strung together by a long string of pearls. The pearls act as a halter that goes around my neck, and she glues the white shells to my breasts, creating so much cleavage I'm actually embarrassed. I'm blessed in the body department, but I'm not used to exposing myself like this. Lanie paints little wave designs on the part of my breasts that are exposed.

She helps me into the skirt, the top of which blends into my skin until it turns into a brilliant sea green, the jewels on the skirt somehow managing to look just like scales. The skirt is ultra-tight until it reaches my ankles, when it flares out into a long, flowing skirt. It's surprisingly easy to walk in, though. I'm finally dressed, so Lanie moves from in front of the mirror to let me see. And what I see makes my jaw drop. If I thought I was beautiful in District 4, it doesn't compare to the person I see in the mirror. She has long, luscious dark hair that falls in perfectly tousled curls down her back, strands of blue and green woven in with the curls. The sea green of her eyes stand out because of the dark midnight blue surrounding them, which fades into sea green wave patterns extending from the edges of her eyes. Her skin is tanned and radiant, the golden freckles on her nose and cheeks standing out more than before. The girl in the mirror is undeniably more beautiful than anything I've ever seen before. But she is me, and I'm amazed at how I look. The seashells make my breasts look even larger than they already are, and my bare waist looks tiny in comparison. I can't believe I look like this, and I turn to Lanie with tears of gratitude in my eyes. "This is so wonderful I can't begin to thank you."

"You don't have to, my dear. You were so lovely to begin with that it was easy for us." She smiles at me, and I smile back, because now I know that I will blow away the competition. She gives me a light kiss on the cheek, grabs, my hand, and walks out to the chariots with me. Our horses are dyed light blue, and I roll my eyes a little bit. Always playing up the district theme, to the point where it's comical. I pet the horse lightly on the nose and steal one of its sugar cubes. It's sweet and it calms my nerves a little bit. I hear a low whistle from behind me, and turn to see the brutal killer from 2.

"Wow, Four. My name is Mason, District 2."

"I don't care about your name, 2." I say, my voice just as calm as his. He looks offended, but I flash him a smile. I could probably win over my allies with my face alone, not even having to show them my skills. "You don't look terrible, either." He's dressed in some sort of golden armor that's so cliché it's almost laughable. But he doesn't look bad. He smiles down at me and I see lust in his eyes and it scares me a little bit. But I don't let it show.

"Where's your little partner? Lover boy?" He asks, and I know he's talking about Blake. Before I can open my mouth to speak, Blake walks up behind me and hugs me.

"Right here, 2." I spin and give him a peck on the lips, and turn to smile at District 2. "Do you need something?" Blake says rudely.

"Not need. I want Annie," and I'm surprised he bothered to look up my name. I roll my eyes and tell him that we'll see him tomorrow in training. "So I take it you two are continuing the tradition," he says, his voice hard and cold as steel.

"Obviously. We didn't train our whole lives just to run off with outer district trash," I say, my voice just as cold. It's not fair to attack the outer districts like that, but my training is kicking in and I'm hard and ruthless.

"Better keeping our training on the down low while we're here," Two says, and I laugh. They _fund_ us! But I know that they have to keep up appearances so I nod. "Nice meeting you 4." He looks at me. "Annie." He walks away, his huge muscles rippling with every step.

"Now, let me look at you," Blake says, and I give him a slow twirl, tripping a little over the skirt of my dress. Blake leans in and whispers in my ear. "You have no idea how badly I want to take that off of you right now, Annie." I laugh, and pull him in for a kiss, feeling the hard muscle of his body, and it's not forced. It's natural. My body wants this person, and my heart loves him. Why would it be anything but natural? "You look so beautiful I think the audience will eat you. Literally," and I laugh again, but I'm unable to tear my eyes away from his face. He has wave designs on his eyes, too, but his costume is different from mine. He wears swim trunks, and has a golden net draped over his shoulder. My eyes move from his face to his body and I am mesmerized. Every cell in my body is craving his right now.

I lean my forehead in to touch his and whisper, "You and me, after the parade. Your room." He doesn't have time to respond because we are told to mount our chariots. I climb in with ease, and Blake follows me.

Before the chariot is about to take off, he does something that sends shivers down my body. We are in sight of the cameras, but he puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss that's so sloppy and passionate and full of love that I can't tear myself away. I hear whistles in the crowd, and the chariot begins to move. Blake pulls away, but I pull him closer and rest my forehead against mine again. But we lock eyes, and I lose myself in the iridescent blue of his. He stares into my eyes and says what is becoming our trademark line. "Just like in training, Annie. You and me."

The chariot begins to move in earnest, so we break apart and hold hands instead. Suddenly, our faces are on the screen and I can see how breathtaking we look. We blow the other districts away, even 1. The cameras focus on us for so long that I actually feel bad for the other tributes. I smile and wave, and squeeze Blake's hand. He does the same, and I feel like I'm on top of the world, until I find Finnick's face in the crowd. He has his arm around a woman, and his jaw drops when he sees me. I smirk at him, and although I've been with Blake, I feel a little sting that he's with a woman while I'm prepping for the arena. I look at Blake, and he looks down at me. His eyes ground me and I go up to kiss him, for myself and for the crowd. And for Finnick.

The crowd goes wild, and all I can hear is chanting. "Four! Four! Four! Four! Four!" They scream for our district, for Blake and for me, until the parade is over.

I'm lying in Blake's bed, waiting for him to come through the door. I still have my mermaid costume on, and I hope he still has his on. Because I'm young and full of hormones and emotions and fears, all I want is his body on mine right now. Finnick disappeared after congratulating us following the parade. I saw him join arms with a purple haired woman. When I saw that, I looked at Blake, and told him that I love dhim.

When Blake walks through that door, it's all I can do to stay on the bed and look at him coyly. His bare chest gleams, and my heart, my body, my soul, everything I am aches for this boy. When Blake sees me on his bed, he walks slowly towards me, taking me in. "Stand up, Annie," he says, but his voice is gentle. I stand up, and he lies down on the bed. "Will you undress for me, Annie?" He pleads, but there is power and seduction and love in his voice and I can't deny him. I slowly shimmy the skirt down my hips, never breaking eye contact with Blake. His eyes are sparks and they are setting me on fire. I delicately pull the shells fom my breasts, the glue coming off with them, and lift it over my head. Blake looks at me, and my body burns. He devours me with his eyes, and I want to be devoured. I want him to crawl on top of me and feel his skin against mine and give me everything he has and tell me that we'll be okay, that we can come out of this together.

Instead, he stands, and backs me up against the wall. He arms cage me in, and he whispers, "I love you, Annie," before he crushes my lips with his own. I kiss him hungrily back, grabbing his hair with one hand, needing him so acutely it hurts. I don't have very long left with him, and I need him now. I need him forever.

He sets me on the bed, and kisses every inch of my skin, leaving trails of fire and salt water and love so deep that I don't know how I ever denied it. I don't know how I ever denied him. I look up at him and see the blue eyes that ground me no matter what, the blue eyes that are more familiar to me than the seagreen of Finnick's, the blue eyes that have been with me for half of my life. The blue eyes that tell me he loves me, that tell me everything will be okay.

"Please," I whisper, and then he breaks. When he finally gives me what I'm aching for, I get lost in everything that I feel. His hands are flames setting me alight, and he is kindling a fire than will never burn out, never be extinguished. Two creatures of water turned to fire, twisted around each other, burning, bent on consuming the other with their flames, flames fueled by passion and love and friendship and sorrow and despair. And I've never felt more loved in my life.

After, when we're lying in his bed, I don't think of Finnick once. All I can think of is the arms wrapped around me, the skin touching mine, the electricity in my every limb. My heart starts to beat faster, and when he smiles down at me, I feel like I'm drowning in a riptide.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hellooo beautiful people! Here's Chapter 12, for those of you that are still with me! Once again, the Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins, however badly I wish they didn't. Happy Thanksgiving!**

When I wake up, I'm still drowning in Blake's arms. I look over at his still face, and I'm overwhelmed with a rush of emotion. How can I ever live without this person? Tears spring to my eyes, and I gently kiss him on the lips. His eyes open, and a sleepy smile creeps onto his lips.

"Good morning, beautiful," he mumbles, and one tear falls from my eye.

"Good morning," I whisper. He brushes the hair out of my eyes, and asks me, "What time is it?" I look at the clock and see that we have only an hour until training.

"It's eight," I reply.

"Let's get ready for training, then?" He asks, and I nod. He looks in my eyes and he understands how I feel this morning. Lost and desperate at the idea of losing him. He sweeps the hair out of my face and cups my chin with his large hand. "Annie, I love you."

At his words, I lose every ounce of composure I have, and terrible, racking sobs seize my body and all I can do is curl up into a ball and cover my eyes. My body heaves and the sounds tearing from my throat sound like the desperate cries of a dying animal. "Blake," I choke out, his name the only thing my mind can focus on. Blake, with eyes that are the most beautiful shade of blue I could ever imagine. Blake, with his constant smile and personality that glows and shines like a light in the darkness. Blake, his strong body lifeless and his eyes—eyes that I would gratefully drown in—staring blankly into the distance, the joy and beauty snuffed out of them like a candle whose flame was blown out by the wind. Blake, my friend, my love, my ally, my constant, dead in the arena, gone from the world forever.

"I can't let you die," Blake says, and the tears come harder and faster until I look into his eyes and every bad thing I've ever felt is washed away, swept away by the surf. Caught in a riptide, drowning and sinking.

"You're going to win," I say.

"Not without you," he mumbles, and he kisses me. His mouth tastes like sugar and sleep, and I wish I could stay in this moment forever, but the sharp rapping at the door interrupts us. I groan and he rubs the residual tears from my face with the pad of his thumb. "Together until the end," he reminds me.

"You and me," I whisper back.

I run into my room to get ready for training, and I find an outfit in the bathroom for me. I scowl when I pick it up, because the shorts are black, tight, and ridiculously short. The shirt is a black, low-cut tank top that hugs my body. Great. We're going for the sexy angle again.

I tug my clothes on and slip my feet into some black athletic shoes. When I face the mirror, I want to scowl again. I just cried my eyes out, and my skin is still perfectly creamy and tan, golden freckles still standing out. I put my wavy hair into a high ponytail, leaving some strands out by my face, line my eyes with dark pencil, swipe mascara onto my already dark eyelashes, and swipe some blush onto my cheeks. Lovely and lethal.

I walk into the dining room and I feel my heart beat faster as I think about getting my hands on some knives again. My hands are suddenly restless, searching for a blade. Just for fun, and to scare Camilla, I pick up a butter knife and spin it on my palm.

"Good morning, Camilla," I say cheerfully, still spinning the blade, then picking it up and tossing it from hand to hand. "How are you?"

"Fine, Ms. Cresta," she squeaks, eyeing the knife in my hand. I catch the blade of the knife mid spin and toss it effortlessly at the wall. The blade sticks there, right where I was aiming.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Camilla," I say, sitting down. There's a grin on my face, because training is soon and I can finally get the adrenaline rush I need. And because I scared the wits out of her. Laughing gently, I scarf down some eggs and coffee until Blake emerges from his room, his eyes red. He's dressed in all black, like me, but his clothes are much less right and revealing, obviously. I smile at him, and he spots the knife in the wall.

"I see training began early today," he remarks casually. I laugh and toss him a chocolate muffin, which he catches and promptly sinks his teeth into. I walk over to him and grab his hand.

"No need to escort us, Camilla," I call over my shoulder, and we walk out of the suite to the elevator.

When we get to the training room, we are some of the first to arrive. District 9 sees the two of us and quickly avert their eyes like cornered animals. Blake towers over all of the tributes, and while I'm small, my body is hard and muscular. Our training is evident to all of them. We are still holding hands, and I don't care who sees or what they assume. After all, we're putting on a bit of a show, but it's real, too.

I smile up at Blake and he looks into my eyes. "Wanna give them a show?" He asks playfully.

"You know I'm always up for that," I say. We walk away from the circle of tributes that is getting increasingly larger, and he backs me up against a wall.

When his lips find mine, I find that I'm eager. Not because of the watching tributes or the front we should be putting up, but because I love this boy and we don't have much time left. His arms encircling me are strong, but so are mine, and soon, I have him against the wall, exploring his lips with mine. I even hear him moan a bit. I loop my fingers through the top of his pants, and he grabs my butt with one of his hands. I don't know how long we're over there, and I really don't care, when I hear someone clearing their throat. I see the head trainer looking over at us, and I gleefully wipe my mouth with my hand and turn around.

"Are you ready to begin?" She says with a smirk on her face.

"Of course. What were you waiting for?" Blake says coyly, and we walk hand in hand back to the circle.

Atala gives us a lecture about training that I tune out, because I'm eyeing down the other tributes. Districts 1 and 2 nod at me, and I bare my teeth at all of the other tributes. Only the boys 7 and 11 look unafraid. I even think the boy from 7 is smiling a little bit. I glare at him until he turns his head back to Atala. Before she even finishes her speech, I'm racing over to the knives station. My skill with knives only surpass my skills with an axe by a hair, so I'm saving my skill with axes for the Gamemakers. I'll show them everything I know. Knives, axes, spears, tridents. Maybe I'll get the first 12 in Hunger Games history.

I pick up a belt of knives from the person manning the station and ask, "Do you have dummies that move?"

"Yes, but not ones that can attack. They just move back and forth at high speeds. Will that suffice, Ms. Cresta?" I wonder how he knows my name, and then I realize the front of my shirt has a large 4 over the breast, with my name in smaller print.

"That'll work, sir," I say respectfully, acting like he's my superior in the Academy. He smiles at me and looks me up and down, obviously enjoying my outfit.

"Do you like what you see, sir?" I ask, smirking, and he doesn't even redden.

"Yes, Ms. Cresta, I do. And I think the Gamemakers do, too," he says, glancing at the space they occupy above us. I look over them and see at like five of them looking at me hungrily, so I give them a sultry smile and point towards the dummies. Their eyes are all fixed on me.

"Turn them on," I say, my voice strong and commanding. When they start to move, all I can feel is the blade of the knife and rush of blood through my veins. This is too easy.

The dummies move faster and faster until they reach full speed, and I smile as the first knife leaves my hand. I get so lost in the feeling of metal in my hand and the sound of knives whirling through the air that I don't notice that the gym has grown eerily quiet and my knives have run out. There were ten dummies moving around, and I had twenty four knives. All of my knives found their way into the heart of a dummy, some with three knives centimeters away from each other, stuck blade deep into the heart of a dummy.

I hear a low whistle, and turn to see Blake standing behind me, a huge smile on his face. I walk up to him and put my forehead on his. "I could watch you do that all day," he whispers, and it's my turn to smile.

"Let me see your trident," I say, smiling at the innuendo. He nods at me and we go to a station where there are dummies and several tridents to choose from. Blake picks one up and strokes one of its prongs. He takes it in his hand and tosses it up and down a few teams.

"Beautiful," he whispers, but he isn't looking at the trident. He's looking at me. "Let's do it together." I nod at him, eager to impress the rest of the tributes. He takes two more tridents, so I pick a few smaller tridents, and the dummies start to move again. Blake says tersely, "I take left, you take right."

When the dummies start to move, I let Blake have the first throw. I admire his form as he throws, looking so effortless and natural you would think it was an extension of his arm. My breath catches in my throat as I study him. So beautiful. So deadly.

I predict the path of the next dummy and let the trident fly. Mine flies with less force than Blake's, whose trident impaled itself so far into a dummy the prongs are sticking out its back. But it's a strong throw, and it goes into the heart of a dummy. We throw a couple more tridents each, and turn to face the rest of the tributes. Blake and I just laugh and embrace each other, looking like we're a couple of disturbed "Career" tributes who long for nothing but blood. They're only half right.

We spend the rest of the morning just walking around, practicing at different weapons stations, and when we go to lunch, we sit with 1 and 2.

"Looked good out there, 4," the girl from 2 observes, and I smile at her. She smiles back.

"Thank you. I admire your skill with a spear," I say, and I smile inwardly because I predicted her weapon of choice correctly.

"Thanks," she tosses out casually. "I've had a lot of practice." I bark out a laugh, and the others join me, because it's ridiculous. Here we are, volunteers for the Hunger Games, and we're speaking in code about being trained for them. Who cares if we're trained? Twenty-three of us will be dead soon.

District 1 is peculiar this year. They don't talk much, and I was so absorbed in training that I didn't watch them. I make a note to watch them more after lunch, along with 7 and 11.

"So what do you think of the competition this year?" The boy from 1 asks, and I notice he's staring at me, like I'm the leader of the group. Maybe I am.

"There isn't much of it. Although we should watch out for 7 and 11. Maybe the girl from 6," I say authoritatively. If they want me to be their leader, I will be. Better chances for me.

Blake nods, and continues to stuff his face. I eat two sandwiches and a piece of pie, anxious to get back to the training room. I want to practice my hand to hand, but I don't want to do it with one of these pathetic trainers. They wouldn't be any competition for me.

I walk up to the attendant at the hand to hand station and give him my best smile. He smiles back at me, and looks very pointedly at my breasts. I decide to take advantage of this. I push my chest out a little more.

"So, do you think you'd be able to make an exception for me?" I ask seductively, getting close to him and whispering in his ear. I can hear his heartbeat quicken.

"What kind of exception?" He stutters.

"Well, see, my district partner is the only person I can spar with. He's the only one good enough to beat me," I say, my voice still low and seductive. "A girl like me needs a challenge to _perform,"_ and I look up at him through my eyelashes, like Finnick does. I pull my shirt down lower, so far my nipples are almost showing. "Please?" I ask, leaning closer and his fingers skim the top of my breast. I smile up at him, pretending to not be revolted.

"I can't wait to get a taste of you if you win."

"_When _I win," I whisper seductively, trying not to throw up. He pulls his hand from my shirt, and nod at me.

"Get your partner," he says brusquely, like he wasn't just molesting me, and I notice that tributes are starting to pour in. _Oh, that's why._

"Blake!" I call, with a smile on my face. "I convinced the trainer to let us spar together!" His face shows no emotion, and I wonder what happened.

"Can I talk to you?" Blake says, concern knitting his brow.

"Sure."

"District 2 wants you badly. Not as an ally. He told me that I better watch out for you because as soon as I die, you're all his. Do you want him?" Blake asks, jealousy crossing his features. I have to stifle a laugh. "And how did you convince the trainer? Something tells me it had to do with your breasts." His voice is a little lighter now.

"District 2 is revolting, Blake. He flirted with me but I rejected him. And I just wanted to practice with you, so maybe I showed him my_assets._" He laughs, but it's a little dark. "He may or may not have told me he wanted to taste me after I win. But it's okay, I can handle him." I say, but the dark expression doesn't leave his face. "I don't want anyone but you, Blake." And I realize that it's true. Even Finnick, at the moment. Maybe we can fix things before I go into the arena, maybe not. I miss his smile, I miss his voice, I miss his eyes. I can't think about him because of Blake, because he's so unavailable to me. I wish we could fix things, I wish everything could be alright before I walk into the arena, but right now, in this moment, I just want to surrender everything to Blake.

"Even Finnick?" I shake as I look into his eyes.

"Even him."

"Ready, Cresta," Blake smirks at me as he pads up. The condition for letting us practice together was that had to wear gloves and some body pads, but that's okay. We've fought with our bare fists before and sent the other home with bruises and cuts. So we're fine.

"Ready for you to get your ass kicked, Hadley?" I shoot back, wearing a feral grin on my face. Hand to hand is one of my favorites. People underestimate me because of my size, then they figure out that I'm deadly.

Before we fight, he leans down and presses his forehead into mine. I'm staring into iridescent, cerulean blue that's as unchanging as the ocean, and I know he sees the ocean in my eyes, too. I'm transported back to the Academy for a moment, remembering the first time we sparred. He leaned his forehead down to mine and stared at me like he is now. "You and me, Cresta," he whispered to me with a grin on his face. Just as he does now.

"You and me, Hadley," I say, grinning, and the trainer counts down from five. When we start, we don't do anything, just circle the other for a moment, looking for weaknesses. But we don't have to look long, because we've been fighting each other for as long as I can remember. I have him memorized. Not quick on his feet, and he leaves one side of his ribs unprotected. He has me memorized as well, and I'm reminded of this when I'm caught off guard with a jab to the face. He knows I will never strike first. I back away a little, and he's smiling. He swings again, but I'm faster than him, and I duck. As he's finishing the swing, I kick his legs from under him and land a hard kick into his side, before he grabs my foot and pulls, causing me to fall down next to him. When he gets on top of me to finish it, I swing my leg over his head and reverse us, so I'm on top of him. "You fight like a girl, Hadley," I whisper, and he uppercuts me to the stomach. I shove my arm into his throat as I recover, but he doesn't let that happen for long, because he uses his legs to kick me backwards off of him and his arm is around my throat, wanting me to tap out. But I don't. I use my substantial arm strength to elbow him in the gut and throw him over my shoulder like a rag doll. He laughs when he lands, and holds his hands up as I prepare to come at him again.

"Good job, Cresta," Blake says loudly. He drops his voice to a whisper, "Finnick taught you well."

My stomach flips at the sound of Finnick's name, because I miss him and I don't know where he is right now. Probably in the bed of a Capitolite, winning me sponsors. I try to cover it up, but Blake knows me too well. "I know you miss him. But you'll have plenty of time," and I shoot him a hurt look as he talks about his own death so casually.

He just smiles at me again, but all I can do is scowl.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Hello beautiful people! I hope some of you are still with me! I'm sorry it's been a few days since I've updated, I've been busy with school and everything else. Anyway, I'll try and have the next chapter up by tonight as well, since I'm begging for forgiveness. :) I love you all! I also love reviews to make the story better! Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins!**

The only thing I do at the next day of training is throw knives and observe the boys from 7 and 11. The boy from 7 is practicing with his axe, and he's almost as good as I am. He is on the top of my kill list, because he's too big of a threat. District 11, however, gives nothing up. I see him looking wistfully at some spears and a curved sword, but he goes quickly back to the survival stations and I see nothing else from him. The girl from District 1 surprises me with considerable skill with a bow, and the boy can throw spears a decent distance with force. Blake and I, however, blow them away. Blake joins me at the knives station and we have a great time tossing them around and competing. Were it not for me, Blake would've placed first in knives at the Academy. I remind him of that joyfully and he rolls his eyes at me. The rest of the day flies by in a blur, and we return to the suite exhausted.

I'm surprised to find Finnick sitting at the table in the dining room. There are dark purple circles under his eyes, and he looked depressed and tired. I make my steps louder so he knows that we've walked in. His position doesn't change, and I notice for the first time a bottle of rum sitting on the table. It's more than half gone. I frown and look at Blake, who just shrugs. I tell him loudly that I'm going to talk to my mentor and he walks to his room.

"Finnick," I say, my voice hard. He looks up and his eyes are unfocused from the drink. "Wake up and tell me what the_ hell_ you've been doing the last two days." He's my mentor and he's doing nothing to help me. I know that I've been with Blake. He knows it, too. I wish I could just apologize and tell him that I wished it had never happened. But the words fall flat in my mouth, because I don't know if I am sorry. Especially with the way he hasn't been here.

"You know what I've been doing, Annie," and his voice is slurred. I get angry all of a sudden, and pick up the bottle of rum, waving it around.

"It seems like all you've been doing is drinking and fucking!" I scream, and I know it's unfair because I've been doing the latter with Blake. But I'm not known for being fair. Or decisive.

"Like what you've been doing with Blake?" Finnick yells back, his words running together like a river feeding the ocean. He walks up to me and I see that he's been crying, but I don't back down.

"Maybe if you just understood from the very beginning instead of breaking up with me, it would _you_ that I'm fucking, Odair! But no, you just _had_ to break up with me to see if you wanted me anymore, and look what happened! You asked for it, Odair!" It kills me to be screaming at the one person I would die for, but my words seem to have broken him. A childlike sob escapes his throat, and he collapses on the floor.

"I can't love you anymore, Annie! I can't! I said I was done with Cashmere and I said I loved you but I lied! I've been with her every night, between fucking my clients!" Tears run out of his eyes but my face is hard. "You could be gone in two weeks, and you already love someone else! So what does it matter, Annie? How does any of this matter? At the end of a day, I'm just a slave no matter who loves me!" The words are wild and I go up to him, shoving my hand over his mouth. What an idiot.

"Don't talk like that here, Odair," I growl. "Don't." I walk away from him, but not before grabbing the bottle of rum and drinking the rest of it down like it will keep me alive. I look at Finnick and throw the bottle to the ground, breaking it into pieces. "If you can't love me anymore, then I'm losing a reason to win and gaining a reason to help Blake win. Think about that, you piece of shit," I spit out. Calling him that wasn't necessary, but his words have sparked a fire in me that the entire ocean couldn't put out. Can't love me anymore? Fine. Maybe Blake and I can find a way for both of us to come out alive.

"Annie!" He calls after me, but I just make an obscene hand gesture behind my back and walk to my room. Angry tears start to fall out of my eyes, and I try to stifle them. I slam my fist into the wall, over and over again, trying to drown out the pain. But I can't. Nothing can take the edge off the words that Finnick said. _I've been with her every night. I can't love you anymore._ The words run through my mind, over and over again, like a broken record. No matter how hard I punch the wall, the words get louder in my mind. No matter how hard I press my hands over my ears, all I can hear is Finnick's voice telling me he can't love me anymore.

When I cry myself out, I fall on the floor. I hear a gentle knocking at the door, and I think it's probably Blake, coming to check on me. But I hear gentle, soft tones that sound like music and I know it's Finnick. The one voice that can break me right now.

What am I supposed to do? Blake grounds me and steadies me and I know I love him. Imagining my life without him is bleak at best. Finnick runs around and sleeps with everyone and probably will for the rest of his life. A slave. I can't hurt either one of them, but I can't keep doing this, running back and forth and just doing what I feel all the time.

I get up to let Finnick in. He looks down at my knuckles, which are cut and bruised so badly they look deformed. But I can't feel them, because my head is spinning from the rum.

"What do you want, Finnick?" I try to sound fierce, but my voice comes out small and cracked. "You said you can't love me anymore, and I understand. I'm nothing like the people here, and I knew this wouldn't last. I'm sorry for being with Blake and for betraying you," finally speaking the truth. "But I'm not sorry for the way I feel about him. And I want him to be happy for the rest of his life."

"Annie," he looks at me, and though he is drunk, his eyes are focused and it reminds me of when he watched me walk out of the sea after he won the Games. "You looked so beautiful during the parade. Part of me just broke when I saw you and Blake together, because I know I can't compete with that right now. He's going to die soon, and you're going to see to it that he's happy until he does. He loves you, Annie, probably more than I'll ever be able to." He stares down at me, his eyes intense and searching. Asking for me to argue with him, to tell me he's wrong, asking me if I still believe in him.

"Don't lie to yourself," my voice is low and rough. "Tell me that you can't love me, tell me that Blake is better than you, tell me that you can live without me. Tell me," I say.

"I can't."

"I get it, Annie," Blake says, and he has tears in his eyes. "Only one of us can come out of the Games, I know that. And I know that I would rather it be you. Think about your life if I die, how miserable it would be and multiply that by about ten times. That's how I would feel every day. I've loved you for three years, and every day I woke up and couldn't wait to spar with you, to throw knives with you, to just watch you. Where will I be if I can't do that every day? I know you love Finnick, Ann. I know you love me, too. But I would be lying to myself if I said I didn't know who you loved more."

"I wish he didn't want me anymore," I whisper. "I wish he just dumped me and you didn't get selected so we could be something. So I could love you completely the way you deserve—"

"You've given me so much more than I could ever wish for," Blake whispers.

"I wish I could just give you everything you want in these weeks just in case you die."

"Every time you put your forehead on mine, I think that I'm the luckiest person on Earth. Anything you give to me from now on, I won't hold it against you. If you decide you want to sleep with me before the Games because you love me, that's fine. If you decide you just want to be friends until the Games, that's fine. I just want to be around you, Annie. Every time I see you smile, it makes everything worth it. But I would be kidding myself if I said you didn't love Finnick. And it would be selfish to ask you to ignore it."

"I'll be with you until the very end," I whisper. "I'll never leave your side."

"Just remember that no matter what happens in that arena, you'll always be my best friend. You and me, just like in training, Annie. Nothing can ever take that away from us." I give him a small smile, because he's better than me and Finnick and every one I've ever met. He's too good, too pure, too accepting, too understanding. I lean in to him, but I don't kiss him. I just put my head on his shoulders, and he puts his arms around me. I don't want to let go of him, because he's my best friend and I miss him already.

When I walk into Finnick's room, and see him on his bed, it's early in the morning. He's tying a piece of rope into knots, over and over and over again. He looks up to see me and smiles at me. My heart starts to beat faster, but I keep a straight face because I really need to talk to him.

"Finnick, I love you. I love you more than anything in the world, and you know I've been training my whole life just to get back to you. And I will, I swear I will. Just promise me that you'll never leave me, promise me that you won't hold Blake against me, promise me that you'll stay by my side for the rest of my life and never love anyone else—" my words are cut off by Finnick's lips crushing mine, and I've forgotten how beautiful they are. If Blake is a riptide, pulling me under the water to drown me—Finnick is a hurricane, destroying every defense I have, shattering my world. Finnick, whose love has struck me again and again like the massive waves during the midst of a hurricane, tearing down the walls I've built up with blowing winds, stronger than the very force pushing the storm that is Finnick into being. Finnick, whose honesty and beauty and serenity is like the eye of the storm that almost destroyed District 4 hundreds of years ago, whose love is destructive and peaceful and magnetic and pours down on me like a torrential rain after a drought. Finnick, the only person on Earth who can sharpen me. Finnick, the only person alive whose pain is my pain, whose eyes have burned me and submerged me in peaceful waters and crashed waves down over my body and were calm like tide pools. Finnick, the one person I would die for. The one person I would live for.

I break away from him and look into eyes that are sea green, and I feel like I've come home to gentle waves after years of never seeing the sea. "You're all I'll ever be able to see," he whispers. I let a lazy smile come to my lips and the way his lips curl over his teeth remind me of the water drawing back from the shore after a wave crashes in.

"I'm going to win," I whisper back. "Everything I'm going to do in the arena, I'm doing for you. I don't want you to think any differently of me when I come out."

"No matter what happens, Annie, I'll always be here. No matter what happens." He whispers into my hair. I lift up my head so my lips are almost on his.

"Don't judge me too harshly," I say, because I'm selfish and I can't stop the words. He just laughs quietly, tears jumping to his eyes.

"After everything you've put up with since I turned sixteen, I think I can forgive you for Blake. You're young," he says happily enough, but there are still tears in his eyes.

"I would walk through a hurricane for you," I say because it's true. There's nothing I wouldn't do for Finnick. Nothing. Including killing an arena full of scared children. "I should get dressed for training," I say, breaking the moment we've created.

"Let me come with you," he suggests and I shrug because I don't want to seem too interested. He sees right through my act, laughing, and I make an obscene gesture with my hand. "I've missed you, Annie." I smile at him, so widely my bottom teeth show, because I missed him, too.

When we walk into my bathroom, he plops down on the toilet and just watches me take my pajamas off. "So what've you been up to, Finnick?" I ask, pulling sweatpants off my legs and sliding my tight black spandex shorts on. His eyes stay glued to mine as I pull my shirt over my head and pull my tight tank top on.

"Jesus, they're really pushing the sexy angle for you. Not that it doesn't work, it just worries me," and of course I know why. But I brush it aside for now. I raise my eyebrows at him and swipe blush onto my cheeks. "Oh, sorry. I've actually been recruiting sponsors and just dealing with clients, that's all. And I've seen Cashmere a few times." I look at him, scrutinizing him. His eyes meet mine and there's no duplicity in them. I believe that he's just seen her. So I roll my eyes at him and throw my balled up shirt at him. He catches it easily and continues, "You've got sponsors lined up around the block, Ann. You wouldn't believe it. You're rivaling me. You and Blake's romance really got the attention of the Capitolites, but you're everyone's favorite. Camilla's even helped pull a few sponsors."

"How?"

"She's telling everyone that you threw a knife into the wall during breakfast. They love your spirit." His voice sounds like music and I wish I didn't have to go to training so I could listen to him talk all day.

But I can't. He pulls me into his arms quickly, and plants a sloppy kiss on my forehead. I inhale the scent of him, and even though we're far away from the shores of District 4, he smells like salt water and wet sand. It makes me homesick and more determined to win the Hunger Games.

"These Games belong to you, Annie. I love you," he whispers, and he squeezes me one more time before letting me go. I look in the mirror before I walk out of the bathroom and we go to the dining room. Finnick sits next to me, and we hold hands under the table. He goes into mentor mode when Blake arrives, and I make sure I listen carefully. "Okay, guys. This morning is your last chance to practice your skills before your private sessions this afternoon. I suggest, since both of you are skilled with multiple weapons, show your best three to the Gamemakers. But don't just throw knives at dummies. Make net traps, have the dummies move, and most of all, make it interesting. You're lucky because you're close to the beginning, but you'll want to make sure you stick out. You two are already favorites in the Games; just make sure you keep it that way. I'm expecting at least a 9 from both of you. Your allies will be disappointed with anything less. Your allies will be important—until a certain point. But we'll get to that tomorrow." Finnick sinks his teeth into a massive piece of ham and chews for a long time, looking thoughtful. Suddenly, I'm glad I have Finnick and Mags for mentors, because I would hate being mentored by one of the bloodthirsty victors from 4, like Marlow—who won the 51st Games by capturing all of his victims, torturing them one by one, then finally killing them—or Nari, who slowly sawed through the necks of her victims in the 51st Games. Finnick and Mags are smart and cunning. And they're humane. As humane as they can be, considering they both killed a considerable number of children. I wonder who I'll be like. Finnick or Marlow?

I shake my head and just eat my bacon, slowly and deliberately. Finnick squeezes my hand and I look up at him. His green eyes are concerned and he wrinkles his eyebrows so subtly I almost miss it. I give a small shake of my head and turn back to my breakfast.

In a few short weeks, I will be a murderer.

"District 4," I hear someone say. I whip my head around and hear the silky, revolting voice of the boy from 2, Mason.

"Two," I say shortly. I turn back to the dummies, which are moving back and forth so quickly I can barely see them. A knife flies from my hand and it wedges itself into the heart of a dummy. I grunt and throw another one, harder. Heart, head, neck. I rotate between aiming for those three spots, always hitting them. I throw until I run out of knives, then walk to the spear station and pick up a heavy spear. I grip it just the way Finnick taught me, and throw it as hard as I can at a stationary dummy. It goes through the dummy. I growl, because I have so much energy built up inside of me that I have to release it. I walk over to the hand to hand station and ask the creepy trainer to spar. I need to beat something up.

He eyes me up and down and it's difficult for me to not roll my eyes. I flash him a winning smile and get in the ring. When he tells me to pad up, I tell him no. I want to fight and feel flesh against knuckles.

When he tries to make the first move, I sidestep him easily and kick him in the side, hard. He falls to the ground but is up in an instant, trying to swing again. I dodge it and send my elbow into his face. When he's recovering, I twist his arm behind his back and get my other arm around his neck. He elbows me in the stomach but I don't loosen my hold. When he elbows me harder, I throw him away from me because I don't want to choke him to death. I punch him in the jaw, in the eye, the nose, anywhere I can hit. All because I want to drown out the parts of my soul that scream out that the Games are unfair, they are senseless murder.

I walk out of the gym without looking back.

"That was a good ass-kicking, Annie," Blake whispers, as he sits down next to me. I stay quiet because I'm still thinking about this morning. What is it like to see the light leave someone's eyes forever? I'll find out soon enough.

I smile at Blake and notice how handsome he looks today. He holds my hand under the table, much like Finnick did, and I squeeze it gratefully. These days could be some of the last with my friend.

"Four," the boy from 2 grunts. I look up. "You were seriously bad ass over there. You don't need those knives to kill, do you?" The lust in his eyes is unmistakable and my body shivers, but not in a good way.

"No," is all I say. "I don't need anything but my hands to kill." My voice is flat and unemotional.

"Hopefully I'll be able to feel those hands on me before I kill you," he purrs at me, and I scowl at him. Does he know that I'll rip his heart out in the arena? Does he know that I will celebrate his death?

"I wouldn't count on it," I shoot back. He smiles wider and runs a finger down my cheek. I vow to myself that the second I kill District 7, I will kill 2 in his sleep. With no regrets.

When District 1 is called in to their private sessions, I stiffen. What will I do for mine? The last time I timed how long it took me to make a net, it was three and a half minutes. I can't waste time on nets for the dummies, not if I want to show them knives, axes, and spears. I let out a huff of breath as I try to think. If I were a Gamemaker, what would I want to see in a tribute? Showmanship, definitely. I decide to do some of my cartwheel knife throws and my showier moves with an axe. But I have to show them something of who I am, too. My spirit.

When Blake is called, he kisses my cheek and goes in. After fifteen minutes, Annie Cresta is called and I stand up. My spine is ramrod straight as I walk proudly into the gym. The Gamemakers eye me like a piece of meat, and I smile invitingly at them. "Hello, I'm Annie, from District 4." I say confidently. A few of them nod at me, and I take their nods as a signal to begin. I pick up some spears and have a trainer turn the dummies on. All fatal hits through the heart. I show them a little of my close quarters axe skills before embedding six axes in the chests of rapidly moving dummies. When I pull out my belt of knives, they're all transfixed. I throw knife after knife, spinning, cartwheeling, shoulder rolling, and laughing when each one finds its target. When I know I only have a couple of minutes left, I ask the Gamemakers for a volunteer. One bold young man walks down to the gym floor, and I ask him to stand in front of a target. He looks hesitant.

"Do you trust me?" I smile at him, and he smirks at me. Nods. "Then, by all means, sir. The target." He walks over and stands in front of the target, about the same size as a dummy. I throw five knives. One on each side of his face. One right above his head. Two under his armpits, only millimeters from his body. I give him a smile, and he looks relieved. "Thank you for participating, sir. It's been a pleasure," I say, addressing the Gamemakers. I wave at them and walk out of the room, wanting nothing but a shower and to sleep.

Which is exactly what I do when I get back to the fourth floor. I take a warm shower and crawl into bed, my hair still wet. I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.

The numbers flash by. The pair from District 1 both get nines, which are okay scores. The girl from 2 gets a nine as well, but the boy, Mason, gets a ten. District 3 both score fives, and then it's Blake. I see his handsome face and iridescent eyes on the screen and the number 10 flashes in front of his face. I let out a sigh of relief. Ten is a good score. He's safe for now.

I'm so relieved that Blake scored above a 9 that I almost don't register the 11 that appears in front of my headshot. Without thinking, I scan the room for Finnick, and when my eyes find his, it isn't long before I throw myself into his arms. His arms are tight around me, and I let myself lose myself in the waves and wind and torrential rainfall, standing alone in the midst of a hurricane.

When we break apart, Finnick touches my cheek with his thumb gently. He tells me quietly that he has to go see some clients and that he'll see me later. I nod, and he gives me one last smile before we walks away. I watch the rest of the training scores pass by quickly. The only notable ones I see are the girl from 6, scoring an 8, the boy from 7, scoring a 9, and the boy from 11, scoring a 10. I'm not surprised by any of them. I've been so lost in watching the scores that I forgot about Blake. I turn to see Blake watching me with something indescribable in his eyes. Sadness? Jealousy? Love? Devotion? I can't tell. So I walk over to the couch and sit next to him. He puts his arm around me, and I lean my head on his shoulder. I can feel his strong, steady heartbeat, and I close my eyes. A peaceful moment with the boy who would give his life for me. Minutes of silent companionship with the boy that I love, but not enough to die in his place. His arm grows tighter around me and I know that he's thinking the same thing I am. I cling to him, because I know how badly this hurts him. I cling to him, because with every squeeze of my heart, my breaths come shorter and my chest feels like it's breaking into pieces. I don't say anything to him, and he doesn't say anything to me. I try to breathe deeply, but the air won't come. When I'm in the arena, it will be a constant countdown to the second I lose this boy. The clock will be ticking down the moments of his life ceaselessly, like waves against a boat, and I'm powerless. How little time we have together. How beautiful this moment is. How steady his arms around me feel, a safe haven, an oasis.

Blake gives a small sniff, and I look up. Tears cascade down his cheeks, and I rub them away with my thumb. Every time his blue eyes meet mine, something inside of me breaks. Splinters. Cracks. Damaged irreparably. For the first time, I'm given a taste of what my life will be like without him. I will be damaged beyond repair. Cracked past the point of patching up.

"Tell me the best day of your life," the words come out cracked and low, and I smile at him.

"Do you remember the first day I came to the Academy?" I ask gently, and he nods. "I felt out of place. My dad had trained us before they saved enough to send Dylan and me there, but it was nothing like the first day I walked in. Huge girls and boys throwing spears and knives, so impressive and so terrifying. I thought then that I would never make it to the Games. That I would get reaped and someone from 1 or 2 would slaughter me at the Cornucopia. But then I walked into math the first day, you smiled at me. You cleared a spot next to you and squeezed my hand. You made me feel like I had an ally, even though you'd already been in training for a while. You were there the whole time, Blake. Do you remember the first time I ranked first in knives? When we were eleven? Right after the rankings were posted, I felt so powerful. Like I had a chance, like I belonged among all of you. And your eyes found mine across the room, and I ran to you and you scooped me up in your arms. I've never felt more like I belonged somewhere, like I belonged with someone. That was probably the best day of my life. You've been a constant for so long, and that day you became the best friend I ever had." I finish the story quietly, reminiscing.

_"Annie Bananie! Why you so skinny?" A boy in my class, Sheldon, yells from across the room. I turn my head down and scowl at my feet. I know I'm skinny. But I throw knives better than anyone else. No one seems to notice that._

_ "Yeah, Annie, why don't you hit the gym a little? Don't you wanna win the games, little girl?" Nala jeers at me from a few feet away. I hate Nala. She's cruel and has picked on me since I came here, two years ago. I'm getting better. I'm good with weapons. All she is a big brute who can beat people up with her meaty fists._

_ "Beat it, Nala," I hear from behind me. "Go beat up some year one with those fat hands."_

_ "Or what?" She shoots at him. If looks could kill._

_ "Or I'll put my spear through that ugly head of yours. Plus, Annie would win the Games ten times over before you even passed the practical. Get lost," he says, and the words make me smile. I turn to Blake and he grins at me warmly. Nala runs off, like a coward, and mimic a spitting motion after her running body. "Your weapons are looking great, Annie," he says, and puts an arm around me. "You just need to improve your spears. And exercise more so you'll be better at hand to hand. But you're only a few years in, so don't worry. I've been here since I was seven."_

_ "That explains why you're such a brute," I joke and he slaps my shoulder. But he's laughing. I love these moments with my best friend. It's easy, natural. A smile spreads across my lips with ease, and he throws me over his shoulder._

_ "Time for lunch, little Annie," he says, and I shriek at the top of my lungs, giggling the whole way there._

_ When we go to the gym hours later, I lift weights and run until I can't move, but fierce pleasure courses through my body, side by side with the lactic acid making my limbs come alive. I am invincible. I am powerful. I am unstoppable._

_ Even though my body aches and screams for rest, when Blake pulls me to my feet, I don't resist. We go to a big, soft blue mat, and I ask Blake what we're doing._

_ "We're going to fight," he says, with a smile on his face. My stomach clenches up, because Blake is much bigger than me, and I will surely go home with a bruised face. Or worse. "No pads. Pain will help us learn faster," and I have to agree with him. If soft padding dulls his blows, I will never learn to defend myself or fight properly. So I hop on my feet a few times and rub my hands together. I hold my hand out for Blake to shake, but he pulls me in close to him._

_ When our foreheads touch, all he says is, "You and me, Cresta."_

_ When he picks me up off the ground ten minutes later, bloody and bruised, I'm wearing a smile._

_ Because I'm finally home._


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys, here's chapter 14. Sorry I haven't updated in a few days, finals are kicking my butt right now. I'm working on chapter 15 right now, so it should be up soon! Thanks for reading, and pllleeeassseee review! Reviews will only make the story better! Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins. :)**

When we sit down for dinner, Finnick hasn't returned yet. So I sit next to Blake, and we hold hands under the table. We make small talk and shove bits of food into each other's mouths and everyone is amused by us.

"How long have you two been together?" Camilla asks, and I blush. I don't know how to answer the question, because I don't know what we are. Friends who love eachother? I look at Blake and he clears his throat.

"Well we haven't officially been together for long, Camilla. But we've been best friends for a really long time and I've been in love with Annie since I was fourteen. She only wised up recently," and even though my heart hurts, I have to smile. So much time wasted. Camilla smiles, and there are tears in her eyes.

"How lovely." That's all she says, because she is too choked up to say anything else. Look at us, two star-crossed lovers from District 4. How tragic. I look over at Blake and he just smiles at me, carefree as always. His moments of sadness are few and far between, because he knows what he wants. If I were with Finnick in the arena, I would be as carefree as he, because I would be determined to not come home alive.

I think for a moment of how selfish I am.

"So, what are we doing today, Mags?" I ask. Mags hasn't been participating much, because she's more of a mental coach than physical. Finnick talks over training strategies and Mags covers the arena. She's cunning and in her Games, sixty-two years ago, she was lethal.

"You'll each have four hours with Camilla to practice etiquette, and Blake, you'll have four with me to go over the interview. Annie, you'll be with Finnick. I know you two are training together but we typically do the interviews separately. It allots more time for each individual. We have to think of which angles you would like to play up. In outlying districts, when tributes scores are low, they have to come up with some way to spin their low score. However, you two don't have to worry about that," Mags says with a wide smile. I reciprocate, because Blake and I are truly impressive. We are already winning the Games. "Tomorrow you will spend all day with your prep teams getting ready for the interview. The morning after, you will be going into the arena." My heart skips, not out of fear, but out of excitement. The arena, my ultimate adrenaline rush, my dream, the test of the skills I've acquired.

"Awesome. Who's going with who first?" Blake asks.

"You'll be with me first, and Annie with be with Camilla. Finnick will be back by the time you're done." I want to roll my eyes because he's off doing God knows what and God knows who, and he isn't here with me. But he does it for good reason, I know, and some of his clients might have deep pockets.

I have the Avox bring me a latte and I head off with Camilla. She titters about heels and smiles and etiquette for a while, but I tune her out. When she gets to specifics, instead of talking about "charming the crowd," I'll listen. But for now, whatever.

"Annie Cresta!" I hear her shriek, and I resurface from my short reverie.

"Sorry, what?" I ask stupidly.

"Please put on this dress and heels. You'll need to practice before the interview, as I'm sure Lanie will have you in heels." I barely contain my sarcastic remarks, and I comply with her. The dress is a plain black silk thing than goes past my ankles, and the shoes have heels longer than my knives.

"What the hell is this, Camilla?" I ask, holding the shoe up in frustrated awe.

"You'll need at least seven inch heels to practice in, my dear. Just to be prepared." In my head, I call the shoes "the heels of death," and think idly that I could probably kill someone with the heel of one. I thought the walking would be hard, but my legs are strong and I'm graceful, so it isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I only trip a few times on my first try, and after that, I'm dancing around in them like I was born in the heels of death. "Lovely, Annie, just lovely!" She coos, and I can tell she's pleased with her work. Not like she had much to begin with.

She works on my posture for a while, but it's pointless because the training has made every physical aspect of my body impeccable. The only thing we work on for a long time is smiling.

"Annie! You can't scowl at Caesar when he tells you that you look pretty! You won't win favor with anyone!" I scowl at her, and she shrieks, "There it is again! Stop with the scowling, missy!" All of a sudden, a winning smile comes on her face. "See? Even when someone is infuriating, you are able to smile at them! You try!"

I force a bright smile and it feels like I'm grimacing, but she claps for me. The smile turns real, and I'm glad that I'm almost done with her. Thank God, I think. This woman is grating on my nerves. The clock inches slowly towards noon, and I'm shaking in anticipation of seeing Finnick. Or it could be the hunger taking over my body. I barely had breakfast.

When I walk into the dining room, though, Finnick is still absent. I ask Blake how his session with Mags went, and he tells me that it was fine.

"What angle are you going for?" I ask, and he frowns.

"It's a secret," he whispers, but it's playful. I shove him and butter a piece of seaweed green bread and dig into the noodles they set out for us. "Where's Finnick?"

"Hell if I know," I say irritably. Blake looks at me and raises his eyebrows, and I quickly backtrack. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just frustrated that he's never here and isn't really helping me at all. He's supposed to be my mentor."

"I get it, Annie," he says simply. We sit in comfortable silence until I hear a door slam shut, and Finnick walks into the apartment. His hair is messed up, there are dark shadows under his eyes, and I think he's drunk.

"Oi, Odair!" I yell at him, but he ignores me and storms into his room. I growl a little under my breath, and Blake puts his arm around me to steady me. I stab a piece of turkey viciously with my fork and imagine it's the boy from District 2. Oh, Mason, you'll be dead the second 7's picture is in the sky.

I don't know how long I sit at the table, but when Finnick yells my name, everyone else has disappeared. I roll my eyes and push myself from the table grudgingly. When I walk into his room, I see that's he's showered and seems a bit more sober than he was before. Lovely.

"So what's my angle?" I ask, after sitting there in silence for too long. He doesn't even look at me when he answers me.

"You're going to be sexy," he barks at me. I scrunch up my nose in distaste. I'm so much more than 'sexy!' I want to be lethal, I want to be mysterious! Not sexy!

"Just sexy?" I deadpan. "Shall I show them my breasts on stage, too?" My voice is flat and unemotional. I'm surprised it came out that way considering how much anger has built up inside of me.

"Be mysterious, play coy, hint at how lethal you are. But never forget to showcase your looks." His voice is rough and I stand up to walk out of the room. I don't need him for this. I'll go to Mags while he submerges himself in self-pity. What do I care? It's _my_ Games. Not his. "Where do you think you're going, Cresta?"

"To find someone who will actually help me instead of barking orders at me. This isn't the Academy. I don't have to let you yell at me."

"You don't know what I have to do every day, Annie. Though you might find out soon enough. So just stop."

"The funny thing is, I do know what you do every day. I've known since I was fourteen, so don't treat me like a child who can't handle it. I know you better than anyone else, Finnick, so stop with the acting like I'm just another girl who doesn't understand you!" The words start out calm, but escalated to a full shout, and I'm so frustrated with him I don't know what to do.

"Calm down, Annie. Please." I look at him to see that his eyes have filled with tears and his expression has softened considerably. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Let's just start." I don't want his apologies or his excuses. I just want to win the Games.

"It's a guarantee that they'll ask about Blake, but don't give them too much. Leave that up to him. They'll probably ask about me too, since they love me, but keep it brief. You have enough sponsors on your own that you won't need to depend on me to get them. Just know that they love you, Annie, and nothing you say will be wrong. You've got almost as many sponsors as I did. Let's do some practice questions, okay?" He asks, and I nod. He takes a deep breath and tries to make a serious face.

"What are you doing?" I ask, laughing.

"Getting in the zone. Channeling my inner Caesar Flickerman."

"Ah," I say, trying to mimic his serious face.

"Welcome, welcome! Let's give a big round of applause for the beautiful Miss Annie Cresta, from District 4! So Annie, you've made waves here in the Capitol, if you don't mind the expression." I raise my eyebrows at him, and he waves me away with one of his hands.

"Well, I'm hardly surprised. I'm the best thing to come out of District 4 since Finnick Odair," I say coyly.

"And what's it been like having the Famous Finnick mentoring you?"

"Well, he's certainly," I lower my voice seductively, "taught me a lot." Finnick nods his approval.

"In what way?"

"I don't think it's something the audience would want to hear, Caesar. My lips are sealed," I say in a low voice. I sound promiscuous, but whatever.

"And what of the rumours circulating that you and your district partner are together?"

"Well, Blake is _definitely _something. Look at him, he's gorgeous. But all I can say is that we're making these last few days count." My voice is mysterious and Finnick grins widely.

"Annie," he says, dropping the Capitol accent. "We don' t need to practice this anymore. You're a natural. If he asks you those questions, answer them exactly the way you just did. Verbatim. The audience will eat it up."

"Okay," I say, nodding slowly. "So what now?"

"I'm going to go pull you some sponsors, not that you need it. Your account is full to bursting. But more won't hurt anything. What do you want to do?"

"Am I allowed to go practice in the gym?"

"I don't see why not. I'll walk you there."

Finnick takes my hand and leads me out of his room and to the elevators. When we get down the gym, there is a guard there, who Finnick quickly sweet talks. I flash the guard a smile of my own and tell him that I won't do anything bad. Finnick leaves, giving me a quick pat on the head.

When I'm alone in the gym, I find myself wanting to weave a net. I haven't truly made a net since the Academy, but it seems like years since I have. I walk over to the station and grab a huge coil of thin, strong black rope. I sit on the floor, and my hands begin to weave like they're a completely separate entity. I feel the tug and pull of the rope as I tie knot after knot, but my mind is far away.

I stopped by the edible plants station during training once, as Finnick told me it might reveal something about the arena, but there weren't many edible plants there to speak of. It was perplexing. The few edible plants looked like wild flowers, weeds, and roots, but there weren't a large variety. This gives me and my fellow trained tributes a distinct advantage, because the outer districts usually feed themselves with edible plants. There'll be a huge fight at the Cornucopia if the arena looks sparse, and we will monopolize the food supply.

When I think about the arena, an involuntary wave of adrenaline surges through me like a tsunami. I wonder how I will perform when my skills are put to the test. I wonder how many tributes I'll kill. I wonder if my Games will be better than Finnick's. I'm skilled, strong, and deadly smart. I'll wipe the competition before they know what hit them.

I think of what will be at the Cornucopia. Definitely throwing knives. Except for the year that only spiked maces were available, there are always throwing knives. Axes, most likely. I want to get my hands on a few belts of throwing knives and a couple of axes. A spear, maybe, but I should leave those to Blake and the girl from 2. I have enough skill with my other two weapons. I shouldn't be greedy.

I make a mental note of the tributes I need to die immediately. District 7, most definitely. I have a feeling that the boy from 11 will hunker down and won't kill unless confronted, so I put the girl from 6 above him on my kill list. She seems strong and I'm sure she'll be wily as well. The playing field isn't as strong this year as it has been which is better for me.

I don't think about the costs of winning the Games. I want to win. I want to bring honor and glory to every person in District 4. I want to be the ultimate winner. I only think of the rush of adrenaline that runs through my veins whenever I feel the cool metal of a blade in my hand, the feeling of my hand tightening around the handle of an ax.

When I finish my net, I note that it is perfectly crafted. The knots are evenly spaced and it's beautiful. I smile at my handiwork and silently thank my father for this priceless skill. But I push any thought of my father out of my mind as I head to the rock wall, banish any imagine of Finnick or Blake or Mags or anyone that I care about, because in less than two days, I will be in the arena. I will be killing people and I will be winning the Games. My life will be centered around pure adrenaline and murder, and surprisingly, I'm okay with that.

I do what I was taught at the Academy. I push away my emotions and I bury them in sweat and the grip of my shoes against the rocks. My breaths are calm and even, because I am skilled. My body is toned and fit, and this is not a challenge. Nothing will be a challenge to me. They will be small obstacles for me to overcome to reach my lifelong goal.

When I reach the top, I release a breath and propel myself back down the wall. Lactic acid burns through my body even when I am still, and I thank the Academy. I thank them for the skills I have, for the emotional control I have, for the chances I have of winning this game.

I see a screen on the far side of the gym, and I jog over to it. It has each tributes chances of winning and their position in the betting pools. Predictably, I am number one. I am the leader of the alliance I have with the other trained tributes. I have the top training score. I have beauty. I'm lethal. I'm everything a tribute is supposed to be.

Blake is positioned in second, in the betting pools. The boy from 2 is after him, and after that is the boy from 11. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise at that one, not because I underestimate him, but because I didn't think the rest of Panem would see his potential. After his training score, I suppose, it would be hard not to. Other than girl from 6 and the boy from 7, the rest of the tributes didn't score so well on their private sessions, so ignore them. They'll be easy targets at the Cornucopia.

Finnick killed twelve tributes by himself. The Games were boring until he got his trident. Before that, the only reason the Gamemakers didn't interfere much was because Finnick was easy on the eyes and everyone loved his playful antics. But when he received his trident, they loved him for a whole other reason. He was deadly and beautiful, like an angel of death. I'm going to be the same as Finnick. I calmly say goodbye to my humanity as I think of my goals in the arena. Kill more than six tributes. I want the Games to be over as quickly as possible, and be crowned victor. I miss the ocean. The more tributes I kill, the closer I am to it. The closer I am to a house on Victor's Island and unfathomable riches. The closer I am to a life of celebrity and luxury.

I find myself impatient to have it.

I don't consider for a second that I won't be crowned victor.

After spending hours in the gym, I head back to the apartment, exhausted. I did not focus on my weapons skills, but instead drove my body to its breaking point. My entire body aches from my workouts and I have callouses on my fingers from weaving nets. But I'm filled with the sort of contentment one feels after a long, hard, exhausting day, and my good mood is impossible to shake.

When I reach the apartment, I can't sit still. I meander over to the elevator and see a button past the one labeled 12. I press it, because I'm curious and can't stop myself. The elevator ascends rapidly, and when it stops, warm air hits my face. The roof. The warm wind reminds me of the breeze that blows in from the sea, and I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. Besides District 4, I think I found the best place in Panem. I walk over to the edge of the roof, and watch the city lights glow in the darkness. Each floating orb of light seems to mirror the warm glow of light in my soul, and every star that has disappeared tells me that's good to be replaced by something this beautiful.

My heart beats. It rushes loud in my ears, and all I can hear is it thumping and squeezing, keeping me alive and screaming to me that I'll win the Games, that all of this will be mine.

Even alone in the darkness, life rushes through my veins and somehow it isn't because of the Games. Not this time. Perhaps it's like the same feeling I get when I'm out on the sea, when I think of being submerged under white crested waves. Small. I am small.

As I look out on the vastness of the city, all I can see is lights. As far reaching as the sea, lights illuminate the horizon, and past the lights, I see massive mountains, taller than I could've imagined. Here, with all of the city's lights illuminating the sky, massive towers of rock on the horizon, I feel infinite. Like the city lights that look like stars could sweep me up inside them and I would float on forever. I am so incredibly small in this moment, so obsolete, that I think that maybe none of this matters. Not how I feel about Finnick and Blake, not the Games, not the Dark Days, not even Panem. All that matters is this feeling rushing through me that we aren't alone in the world, that we could disappear forever, and there would still be enough left to go on for an age.

I'm not scared of this feeling. I embrace it. I spread my arms and let the wind rustle through my fingertips, because I am only a fraction of the world, Annie Cresta can die and the world will go on ceaselessly, like waves against the shore. No matter what I do in the arena, no matter what happens in Panem, we'll all fade away like stardust and there will be nothing left of us.


	15. Chapter 15

**Here it is, friends! Chapter 15, as promised. I hope you enjoy :) please read and review! Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins, obvi.**

When I wake up, I let out an ear piercing scream. I'm surrounded by an oddly colored trio, and their faces are only inches from mine. "What the hell?" I shout, and Julius dodges my punch with surprising agility. "What the hell?" I screech again.

"My dear, we were told to wake you up to begin your prep!" Lauren says in a high pitched voice. I rub the sleep from my eyes and pull myself up to a sitting position.

"Sorry, I just wasn't expecting the wakeup call. So are we starting now?"

"Well, obviously, my dear." They shove me into the shower, and I savor my time alone. I've always liked being alone. But my time is cut short when they come barging into the bathroom again and I force myself to stop the stream of warm water. They instruct me to use the body dryer, which I do, and they start their work. They chatter incessantly about parties and other nonsense, but like the other time, I find myself enjoying their mindless conversation. It's a nice change from my inner monologue and the drama in my life.

Their fingers style my hair quickly, curling it and teasing it, making me beautiful. They work on my face, and I think I doze off for a while, because they're tapping my shoulder telling me to eat some of what they ordered for lunch. I eat a turkey sandwich hastily and drink down some chocolate milk before they're back to work, and I look at my watch. It's 3 in the afternoon? How did time pass so quickly? I wonder idly if Blake got to sleep longer than me today, because his prep doesn't take quite as long as mine does. A smile comes to my lips at the thought of him all dressed up in a suit, looking handsome. I'm excited to see him, I realize. At the realization, I'm suddenly impatient to get this damn prep over with, because I could be seeing him and savoring the rest of our time together. Thankfully, in a couple of hours, Lanie walks in and gasps.

"Oh my God! Annie, you look so perfect, I think you might outdo Finnick!" I give her a grateful smile, but I don't know how true that is. Finnick is beautiful. "I have your dress right here, then we can get you downstairs," she chirps, positively exhilarated that her tribute is so lovely.

She undresses the garment bag, and I'm secrely thankful that the color is reminiscent of home. The dress is seafoam green, matching the shade of my eyes exactly. It's sleeveless, and there is lace netting by the neck until the silk dress begins. The silk neckline drops in a sharp V to expose my cleavage through the lace, and the rest of the silk drops to a long train, but I see a long slit on one side. I can't wait to try it on.

When I do, I marvel at the fact that something so form-fitting can be so comfortable. The silk hugs every curve of my body, all the way down to my feet, where it begins to fan out in a mermaid tail. The slit runs all the way up to my hip, exposing one of my toned, tan thighs. The neckline shows a lot of cleavage, but I still feel classy because the lace dulls it somewhat. My prep team uncovers the mirror for me, and all I can do is gape.

Is that really me? The girl who spent all of her time in the ocean or at the Academy? I look so heart stoppingly beautiful I can't believe it. My lips are painted bright rec, and dark eye makeup makes my sea green eyes pop. I look like a siren, luring men to their watery graves. I let out a long breath, and turn to Lanie.

"I don't know how you did this, but I'll never be able to thank you enough."

"You're welcome dear. You're the most beautiful tribute I've had the privilege to style," she says, but there is no hint of sadness in her voice. "And I don't have a doubt that we'll be doing this again in a few days for your victory ceremonies." She smiles at me broadly, and I return it, because I'm truly thankful for what she's done for me. "Now let's go."

We walk to the elevator and eventually, we're at the place where all the tributes are interviewed. I can hear a large crowd, but I'm not nervous. Finnick was right when he said I owned these Games. They just want to know me.

I'm standing in line when the boy from District 1 comes up to me and smiles. "Hey, Four, how are you?"

"Fine, and you?" I haven't conversed with my ally very much, but he seems kind enough. Much better than 2, anyway.

"Great. Listen, since we're allies, we need to have a bit of a chat after the interviews with the rest of them. Even though this is the traditional alliance and it'll be pretty straightforward, I need you to convene everyone so we can just talk about it a little bit. Since you're the one everyone listens to anyway," he finishes. I smile broadly, because I love the fact that I'm leading this ridiculous pack.

"Will do, One. Tell your partner I say hello when she comes." He nods at me and walks away, and I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"What was that about?" Blake asks in a low voice. I don't turn around, just whisper over my shoulder.

"Just wants to talk about the alliance for tomorrow."

"Turn around, Ann, I want to see you." So I oblige him, because I've been waiting to see him for hours, and I'm not disappointed. He's dressed in a black suit, but the tie is made of blue-green silk, matching my dress exactly. The audience knows about our love story, so they'll die over this small connection between us. It's a silent tribute to his love for me.

Blake's eyes run from my feet up to my face, and I can see love in his eyes while he studies me. I'm sure I look at him in the same way. He focuses on my face for the longest time, his blue eyes probing my green ones for what seems like an eternity. I can't look away, because I'm drowning.

He leans down and brushes his lips with my own, and I find myself wanting more. I want more from this boy who might die tomorrow, who will be stolen from me forever, the life taken from him like a child ripped from its mother's arms. I can't stand the thought, so I just push my forehead on his aggressively and tell him, "I love you," like it will make a difference in the Games.

"I love you, too, Annie," he whispers, and we break apart. He keeps a firm hold on my hand, scowling at the boy from 2 the whole time. The girl from 1 waltzes onto the stage, and while the audience likes her, I don't think they'll remember her for anything but her training score. The boy from 1 plays up a smart, wily angle, which he pulls off very well, and I think for a moment that I may have underestimated him.

Mason, from 2, is a bloodthirsty killer in his interview. The audience laps it up, because they love almost nothing more than someone who wants to kill for fame. The girl from 2 plays this angle up in her interview, but to a lesser extent, and though I like her, I feel like she's relatively forgettable. The pair from 3 talk about electronics in quiet, twitchy ways, and I realize how intelligent they are. More opponents for me to take down.

When, my name is called, I give Blake a small peck on the cheek and dance towards the stage, like I couldn't be happier to be here. Which is true, actually.

"Welcome, Miss Cresta! You look positively heart stopping, if I do say so myself! No wonder the people here in the Capitol love you so very much," he says jovially, and I put my hand on top of his.

"Caesar, how could they not love me? I'm the best thing to come from District 4 since Finnick Odair," I say coyly and arrogantly, and the audience laughs loudly. I smile at them and wave, which they love even more. "But your compliment means a lot, Caesar, thank you."

"So sweet and so confident! Now, tell me, Annie. What's it been like to have the famous Finnick mentor you? I'm sure many people in the audience are quite jealous." I look through the crowd and find where Finnick is sitting, next to my stylist. He smiles at the cameras cockily, and I remember what he said during practice.

"Caesar, he's certainly taught me a lot," my voice is low and seductive, and I'm not sure I like the part I'm playing, because Blake is listening to this right now.

"Oh, has he?" He asks excitedly. "Like what?"

"Now, Caesar, can't a girl have secrets?" I wink at the camera. "My lips are sealed." Caesar laughs and the audience is absolutely intrigued.

"I would ask if you had a boy waiting for you at home, but obviously, your boy is here with you in the Capitol! What do you have to say about the rumours that you and your district partner are together?"

I try to think of what I said to Finnick, but it seems artificial to me. "Blake is definitely something. Look at him, he's beautiful. But he's brave and kind, and everything I could ever want." The kindness drops from my voice at the end of the sentence, because I don't want to sound weak. "Just suffice it to know, Caesar, that we're making these last few days count." The seductive voice is back and I want to cringe, but instead I smile at the camera and the audience.

"I think the question on everyone's mind, Annie, is if it's true love."

"I guess you'll have to watch the Games to find out. I can't kiss and tell too much," I reply, and I'm laughing a little bit. They'll certainly get a show when I'm in the arena with Blake, a boy that I love.

"Well, well, well, you're certainly something, Miss Cresta! Tell us about your training score," he says, and I pretend to roll my eyes in annoyance.

"An eleven! I really thought I would get a twelve. But perhaps," I lean in conspiratorially to Caesar, "it was a little too _dangerous _for their liking."

"Dangerous, Annie? I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Caesar is intrigued and hanging on my every word, and I'm sure I have the country in the palm of my hand.

"I don't think they'd let me tell, even if I wanted to," I say, and I smirk a little bit, trying to imitate Finnick.

"One last question, Annie," Caesar says, and I feel myself hardening. This is it. "Do you think you have what it takes to win the Games?"

"If there's anything in the world that I'm sure of, Caesar, is that I'll be sitting in this chair in a couple of weeks with a crown on my head. You can count on it." My voice is low, but it isn't seductive. It's lethal, and I'm sure the audience can see me for the "Career" tribute that I am. The buzzer goes off, and Caesar pulls me to my feet. I lift my fist in triumph, and the audience screams for me, loving me so much they're not sure how to show it. My sponsorship account will be looking good after tonight.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Annie Cresta, from District 4!" The audience screams for me once more and I feel drunk with power. This is too easy, too easy. I've trained for this my whole life and now it's about to begin. I wonder if the Games will be this easy. I lift my dress just a little, like Camilla taught me, and walk to my seat next to the male from District 3. He looks me up and down out of the corner of my eye, and I look straight ahead, eyes waiting for Blake to come into sight. When he does, my breath catches, because he looks so beautiful on stage in his suit, skin sparkling in the light. I can't tear my eyes away from him.

Blake starts out with some jokes, and him and Caesar have an easy banter. I can see immediately that Blake isn't going with a certain angle. He's just being himself. Kind and funny and generous and selfless and everything I wish I could be. My eyes follow his every movement. I'm so focused on watching the way his mouth moves when he speaks that I only catch my name falling from Caesar's mouth.

"Annie is the best thing that ever happened to me," Blake says, and he smiles like he's never been happier. "I've been in love with her since I was fourteen. We went to school together our whole lives," he omits the part where he would say we met when we were nine, because we can't mentioned the Academy here. "She was my best friend for so long, and then one day, I looked at her and I realized I would never be able to see anyone else again." The audience loses their minds over his statement, oohing and ahing like they've never heard anything so sweet. "I don't know how we'll deal with the arena, but I'll tell you this Caesar. If I don't come out alive, I'll just be glad that I spent my last days with the love of my life." When Blake's buzzer goes off, everyone goes insane. I feel like I was shallow after watching Blake's interview, deadly and beautiful and mysterious, but shallow. Blake was just himself. Maybe all I am is beautiful and deadly. When he sits next to me, he takes my hand and I smile up at him, happy that he's here with me. But I'm jealous that he did so well in his interview.

I make sure to pay attention to the girl from 6, who comes on shortly. Like I guessed, she is witty and quick. When asked about her training score, she replies, "I can't tell you that, because I don't want people to stop underestimating me. Everyone loves an underdog." She wasn't as popular as I am, but who could be really? The boy from 7 is disturbing. He seems bloodthirsty and seems to be staring at me when he tells the audience that he'll destroy the arena with his axe. _Sorry, kid. I don't care where you grew up, no one is taking those axes from me._

The boy from 11 tells the audience of his large family. He has ten siblings, all of whom are underfed. His parents died when they were young, so he's raised all of his siblings like they were his own children. The audience is eating it up, and I can't help but roll my eyes. Deep inside me, there's pity for someone that lives in a place like District 11, where everyone is hungry, but I have to shove it away now. The Games are beginning soon. He tells Caesar right before his buzzer went off that he volunteered to try and give his family a better life. At this, I have to try harder to shove my feelings away, because they are making it hard to want to kill him.

After the interviews, I drag Blake over to where Districts 1 and 2 are standing, and they all nod their heads. District 2 gives me a lustful look and I glare at him. "So, guys. Is it agreed that we'll all take the Cornucopia as soon as the Games begin? Everybody tell me your best weapon and we'll try to divide it fairly." I obviously claim knives, while the girl from 1 takes the bow and arrow, but we run into a problem when Blake wants to claim spears. The girl from 2 and the boy from 1 also want them, but the boy from 1 back down and says he'll take a mace or sword. The girl from 2 is nice enough, but she isn't the leader of this. I am. "Shut up, both of you. Blake is better with a spear than you are so he gets first priority. But I think that there will be enough for you two to split up, plus Blake is deadly with a trident." Mason, of course, chooses swords, because he is a nasty brute. "I also want to address the number of deaths we're hoping for at the Cornucopia. I think that each of us needs to kill at least two tributes to cut the playing field in half. Agreed?" They all nod complacently and I say, "Great. I'll see you all tomorrow." I take Blake's hand and we walk swiftly away, because I don't want to be any nearer to District 2 than I need to be. Mason will be a problem, and so will the girl from 2. She doesn't like Blake, I can tell. This irritates me, because I want to keep him safe, and I don't want a target on his back.

We arrive at the apartment, and I try to find Finnick, but he's nowhere in sight. This irks me, because I will be fighting to the death tomorrow, and he can't even say goodbye to me. I write him a hasty note and tell him that I love him even though he hasn't been there for me, and I knock on Blake's door. He answers it with his shirt off but his dress pants still on, and I can see that he was in the process of undressing. "Can I come in?" He nods quickly and I step into the room.

Looking around, I feel a little out of place, because I think that I've chosen Finnick. But there's something inside of me that won't let Blake go. Gravity is pulling me to him and I can't stop it. I don't want to stop it. I don't want to wake up without him for as long as I live. I don't want to lose him. I don't want him to die.

"Listen, Blake. I don't know what I want anymore. We'll just play the Games and whoever wins, wins. Because I don't want you to die."

"Okay, Annie," his voice is soft and when his eyes meet mine, they look like the ocean and I just wish that I could dive into them and be submerge and never have to come out. I smile gently at him, and he whispers, "I want to tell you before it's too late. You're the best person I've ever met."

"You are, too," I say because it's true. He is too good for any of this. "I love you," I whisper, my voice almost inaudible. He doesn't respond, just crushes his lips to mine. I dig my hands into his hair and he moves me to the wall where his hands move up and down my body, and there is desperation in the air. I'm desperate that I'll never get to make love to Blake again, desperate I'll never kiss him, and desperate I'll never see the light in his eyes again. He is devouring me, bit by bit, and I don't want him to stop. He's my riptide, and riptides stay longer than hurricanes do, anyways. He slides my dress off me with ease and I loop my fingers through the top of his pants. His eyes burn a hole through mine but I don't look away. I can't. His lips never leave mine, and I find myself succumbing to the water that sucks me under and makes me never want to leave.

It's midnight when I leave Blake's room. I sneak across the hall, naked, into my room where I dress in a simple nightdress. I need to say goodbye to Finnick. Pushing the hair out of my face, I open the door to his room quietly. I expect to see an empty bed, but he's sprawled over the bed, limbs everywhere. I walk over to him and brush a damp curl from his forehead. He looks so innocent when he sleeps, like the Games never happened, like his waking isn't plagued by visions of dead children with empty eyes. I smile as I look down on a Finnick that looks like the one I shared part of my childhood with, who was carefree and happy. I hate to wake him up, but I can't let the note I left be the last he hears of me.

"Finn!" I whisper, and he stirs. I hit him with a pillow and he jolts upright in bed, swinging a knife around. I jump back, thanking my quick reflexes, when he realizes that it's me. Remorse is in his eyes, but I wave my hand at him because it's not a big deal to me.

"What are you doing in here?" He says, his voice croaky and filled with residual sleep.

"I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. Properly." He looks sad for a moment, then smiles at me.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier, but you wouldn't believe how many sponsors I signed up tonight! That's where I was the whole time. You have more sponsors that I ever did in the Games, it's incredible! I'll be able to feed you through the whole Games if you needed it, plus some."

"That's great, Finn. You did a great job mentoring me," I say, and I don't mention the fact that he wasn't here all that often. "Please tell Mags I say thank you for everything she's done for me and that I love her like she's my own mother."

"I'll let her know, Annie. Remember that I'll be watching you the whole time. They have pills available for mentors that allow you to stay awake for the duration of the Games. I won't sleep at all. Mags and I will take care of both of you. Just stay alive and get back to me," he says, his voice grave and wavering just a little.

"I'll win. I love you," I whisper, and he wraps his arms tightly around me.

"I love you," he replies. "No matter what happens, I'll always love you."

"No matter what I see, I'll always come back to you," I whisper back, and he plants a sloppy kiss on my forehead. I smile at him tremulously and walk back to my room, collapsing on the bed. I wish sleep would find me, but it refuses. I'm too full of adrenaline, too excited about the coming day. I decide that I'm not going to sleep, so I take a shower, savoring the feeling of running water. I let my hair air dry into its beautiful waves, and lay down in my bed. There is a small curved device on the side table, and I reach out for it. I hadn't noticed this thing before. As soon as my finger touches it, the screen lights up. I widen my eyes, because it's incredible. There are twelve numbers on the screen. I cycle through them backwards. Touching the 12, the glass wall on the far side of my room transforms into a beautiful woods, with trees of every kind and wildlife everywhere. It's peaceful. I see a black and white bird and wonder idly what it is. When I touch the 11, it shows green fields with cotton and plants of every kind growing, and tall trees at the top of hills, with more birds flying around. The images pass, and I find myself absorbed in them. The 10 shows a yellow field with cows and little huts with chickens inside them. Fields of grain, gray factory buildings with smoke billowing out of them, densely packed woods so realistic I can practically smile the pine through the screen. Massive train stations and huge dams. After I move past the dam, the window transforms into something so beautiful I have to stand up and touch the wall to make sure it's not real. The glass wall has turned into the infinite sea, stretching blue-green past the horizon and beyond. The waves roll gently into shore, and I see the pier where the old roller coasters would have been before the Dark Days. My heart starts to beat faster as I close my eyes and imagine myself beneath the surf again.

But when I open my eyes, I see just a wall, so I press the 3. More factories, but instead they are built tall like the buildings in the Capitol, and made from pure glass. This must be District 3. The home of Panem's most brilliant minds. When I hit the 2, the glass buildings transform to stony mountains. 2. I scowl. I have never liked District 2. When I hit the District 1 button, it's beautiful in a pristine kind of way. Clean green fields surrounded by sparkling white and silver buildings, diamonds adorning everything. I would take District 4 over 1 any day, though. No matter how wealthy 1 is.

I turn the window back to the screen of District 4 and climb into my bed, watching the waves fade into the shore. Before I know it, sleep finds me and I dream of the waves rocking me into the abyss.


	16. Chapter 16

**Here's Chapter 16 guys! Love you all :) Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins!**

"Up, up, up, Miss Cresta!" I groan and look at the clock. 6 A.M. But my sluggishness is immediately gone when I realize that I'm not waking up for another day of training. I'm waking up for the Games. I jump out of bed and yell, "Coming!" I brush my teeth quickly and throw on some tight exercise pants, a tank top, and a jacket. It won't matter now because our stylists will give us our outfits right before we go into the arena. But I still want to look intimidating.

My hair hangs in long waves and my eyes are bright and excited. I practically run to the door and fling it open. Camilla leads me to the dining room and I hastily eat a plateful of eggs and two slabs of ham. Protein. I need protein.

When I'm finished, it's not Camilla behind me, but Lanie. "Are you ready, Annie?" She asks in that rough voice of hers. I nod my head excitedly, and she takes my hand.

When we reach the hovercraft on the roof, she has to wait and take a separate one for the stylists. When I'm frozen on the ladder of the craft, a woman sticks my tracking device in my arm, and I wince a little bit. When I finally get to sit down, I look around the hovercraft eagerly. Blake isn't in it with me, which doesn't surprise me. The tributes on the craft look nervous and terrified. Me, Mason, and the girl from 1 look exhilarated to be heading to the arena. I smile at my allies, and they smile back at me. I'm sure we probably look insane to these terrified children, but I don't mind. I want them to be afraid of us. The boy from District 12 is younger than the others. He's five years younger than me, but he looks me dead in the eye. He has black hair, olive skin, and grey eyes that I know will haunt me for the rest of my life. He's put on weight since he's been in the Capitol.

I bare my teeth at him, but he doesn't look scared. He looks at me defiantly. He leans forward and motions with his finger. I mimic him. "Training doesn't make you any better than me. In fact, it just means you're their slave. You're just a pawn, 4," he sneers at me, his whisper so quiet I can barely hear him. "Just thought I'd remind you before you die."

I know I shouldn't, but I try to take a swing at him. A Peacekeeper pulls me back, and says calmly, "Save it for the arena, 4," before glancing at me appreciatively. I'm sure if I were from an outer district, he probably would've knocked me out. Whatever.

I smirk at 12, the smile gone from his face. I lean forward and whisper, "Trust me when I say that I'll be sending you home in a wooden box. I'll tell your family hello on my Victory Tour, twelve." He looks up and meets my eye. I smile at him, and he looks sick. I forget sometimes how much the other districts hate us that are from 1, 2, and 4. After all, we're wealthy and they're starving. Our districts have the majority of the victors, and our tributes are always trained. No exceptions. There hasn't been one year since the beginning of the Games when no one volunteered from 1, 2, and 4. "Career" districts from the very start. I sneer over at the other tributes in the hovercraft, but none of them will meet my eyes. Mason and the girl from 1 smile at me appreciatively and I give them the thumbs up. As much as I dislike District 2, they're my allies and probably the tributes in the arena that understand me the most. The windows in the hovercraft black out, which means we're close to the arena. My heart jumps in excitement, but is dulled somewhat when a tribute from District 5 leans over his seat and vomits on the floor. Can he really not hold it in until he's in his Launch Room?

When the hovercraft lands, the tributes are escorted out one by one, and I'm glad I'm near the front. When I reach my Launch Room, Lanie sits there waiting for me. I walk over to her and hug her. I ask how long until we go into the arena and she tells me about an hour. I have three bowls of hamburger soup and about five glasses of water. I'm feeling pretty good when Lanie walks over to me with the outfit we're wearing into the arena. My eyebrows shoot up when I see that the pair of pants are stretchy, waterproof, athletic pants that only go a little past the knee. The tennis shoes are black and also waterproof. The shirt is made of the same material, but has long sleeves, and a tight black jacket goes over the top. Every item of clothing is waterproof. I look at Lanie.

She rubs the material between her fingers. "Looks like you might be in luck, mermaid. 'Tis the year for a water arena. Must be warm in it, too."

I had completely forgotten the token Blake's sister gave me before the Games, until Lanie put it on my wrist and told me it was just cleared by the review board yesterday. I give her a smile, and she asks me if I'm nervous.

"I've been waiting for this day my entire life. I'm not nervous, I'm just impatient." Lanie gives me a smile when I say that, and squeezes my cheek. I change into the clothes, and Lanie puts my hair into a ponytail, then fishtail braids the ponytail. The voice over the loudspeaker announces that tributes are to go into their tubes. I give Lanie a quick hug, take a drink of water, and flash her my best smile before walking confidently to the glass encased elevator that will take me to the arena.

She gives me a wave, and yells, "See you soon!" The glass closes me in and I feel the platform begin to lift. I can barely contain my excitement, but I have to. I channel it into focused concentration as I remind myself to observe as much I can in the minute before the gong sounds.

When I come up, I'm blinded by sunlight. When I gain my vision back, I look around quickly at the arena. The first thing I notice is a huge river running through the middle of it. At the banks of the river are small paddleboats, but only about eight of them. The next thing I notice would terrify anyone not from District 4: a massive concrete wall signifying a dam. I smile. This isn't just a normal dam, though. A normal dam would block just the river, but the dam spread out onto both sides of the river, looking like it's holding an entire ocean behind it. Not to mention, a normal dam wouldn't be 700 feet tall. The river still flows in its bed, but the dam signifies that there is a lot more water than just that river. On both sides of the river is an abandoned city. The side we're on looks old. The building are beautifully crafted from stone, some of them white marbled. The Cornucopia is on a long, straight stretch of grass that looks like a belt. Behind us is a building with a dome on the top, in front of us is a massive pillar made of white stone. It stretches into the sky and I'm betting it will be everyone's compass in the Games. I quickly assess the other side of the river and see that the buildings are taller and made of metal and glass. Much more modern than this side. I wonder if this place is real or crafted just by the Gamemakers. The dam and the massive body of water behind it is certainly artificial, but the rest looks real. And beautiful.

I look around the circle of tributes to find my allies. Blake is five down from me, Mason is three to my left, and I can't see the others. I am positioned directly in front of the mouth of the Cornucopia, and I wonder if that is a coincidence. Probably not. I survey the weapons looking for my throwing knives, and I see belts upon belts of them, different sizes, hanging from a nail in the Cornucopia. I see a few axes lying around, a little further out from the mouth. Trying to create a fight by having it outside the mouth. There are backpacks lying further out from the mouth of the horn and other random items, such as waterbottles and rope, further out from the backpacks. Some are even a few feet from me.

Claudius Templesmith begins the countdown from ten, and I position my feet on my pedestal so I'll be able to run as fast as I can. I'm smiling widely.

_Five,_ I zone in on the throwing knives, thinking of the metal on my fingers. _Four,_ I notice the boy from 11 is near me, next to Blake. I shudder. _Three,_ the thump of my axe in 7's chest. _Two,_ in five minutes I will be a murderer. _One. _I don't care.

I take off, my feet carrying me so swiftly I leave the other tributes in the dust. As soon as I reach the axes, I sling one across my back in its holder and pick one up in each hand. Seeing the girl from 5 approaching me, I throw the smallest one at her and it lands in her chest. I have the first kill of the 70th Annual Hunger Games. Leaving the axe there, I run further in and strap five belts of knives on my waist. When I see Mason approaching, I toss him a large sword and he runs the girl from District 12 through with it. I walk around the side of the Cornucopia to see the boy from 10. I can see that he's going to try and knock me over, but I quickly sidestep him and kick him in the back, hard. He falls to the ground, and as he's trying to crawl away, I hop on his back nimbly. Feeling inspired, I lean down to his ear and whisper, "I'm sorry about this." Kissing him on the cheek, I pull his head up with his hair and slit his throat. Without looking, I toss the knife in the air and catch it by the bloody handle. I look over my shoulder and see a small boy running at me. Gauging his path, I throw the knife over my shoulder, turning, and it stabs him in the heart. Panic seizes my chest as I see the light leave his eyes and for the first time, it hits me. _I'm a murderer._ But I can't panic here. I pull my knife out of his chest and see Blake engaged in a fist fight with the boy from 11. I can get rid of him here and now.

But I don't have a clean shot at his heart. Not without possibly hitting Blake, too. But the boy gets Blake in a headlock and I have to do something, so I grip the blade of a long throwing knife and let it fly, hitting the boy from 11 in the upper thigh. He jerks away from Blake, who rolls from the boy to recover. He isn't recovering long, because he picks up a silver trident and skewers the small girl from 11 through the heart. I look away from my love to see the boy from 11 rip the knife from his leg. I take off after him, intending to finish him. I let a knife fly from my hand, but he feels it coming and ducks. _Shit._ I turn back around to the bloodbath, and see corpses littering the ground. I see a girl from some outer district attempting to flee with a weapon, but there's an axe in her back before she can make it past the trees. I turn back to see that there's still fighting going on, as both District 1s and the girl from 2 haven't scored their required kills yet, but I walk over to Blake, pretending to be bored.

"Hey, handsome," I joke, and Blake turns to me. He smiles at me, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, yourself. What do you think of the arena?" I look around and see the stone buildings lining the long stretch of grass.

"I like it. It might be hard to flush some of these tributes out of the buildings, though. The river will be good for catching them, as it seems to be the only source of water," I comment, analyzing the arena. Blake looks around to see if our allies are listening and then turns back to me.

"Whenever we break the alliance, we'll head right for the island in the middle of the river. Poke holes in the rowboats so they sink, and we'll be safe for a while." I nod along to his words thoughtfully, because it's a good plan. We watch the girl from 2 kill a little boy and I shudder.

"Killing isn't the same as I thought it would be," I said, but I don't let myself say anything more, or think anything more. I feel stained and dirty, like I'll never get this blood off my hands. But I can't ruminate on it for too long, because I have more killing to do, and it's necessary. So far, my Academy-learned skills have passed the test.

"I know," is all he says, and he slips an arm around me. When the last outer district kid runs from the Cornucopia, we're left alone. I call everyone together, and we decide to take inventory of our kills.

"2?" I ask, looking expectantly at their tributes. Mason clears his throat proudly.

"I killed three," he says, and I smirk, because I had more kills than him. He smiles at me, looking me up and down.

"Two for me, Annie," the girl from 2 smiles at me and I'm thankful for her saying something. I nod in approval.

"1?" I ask. The girl looks embarrassed. She doesn't say anything, so the boy opens his mouth first and tells me that he only had one.

"Why did you only get one?" I ask, angrily.

"We were on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, Shine didn't even get a kill. We weren't in the mouth of it, like you were. Plus, she injured someone." The boy isn't angry or annoyed with me, just totally level. I narrow my eyes at him, curious as to why he's so calm.

"That's fine, considering I killed four. Blake?" I ask, fondness seeping into my tone. He smiles at me before telling me that he got his two tributes. "Let's go pull our weapons from the bodies and back off so the hovercraft will get them."

We do as much, but when I approach my first kill, I swear quietly to myself. I left the axe in the girl's chest, thinking I could come back later and get it. But it's gone. My quiet swearing becomes louder until I'm almost yelling, "Shit! What the hell was I doing? God fucking damn it!" Blake rushes over and asks me what's wrong, and I tell him, "Look how stupid I am. I left the axe in her chest to get it later, and now it's gone. Which district uses axes, Blake?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Hellooooo guys! Here's Chapter 17 :) I'm literally begging you all for reviews, because I want ideas with what to do for Annie's Games, past what I already have in my mind. Reviews make me more motivated to write because I think you guys want more of the story when you do. Thanks to all of you for reading and to those who have favorited, followed, and reviewed so far :) Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

So District 7 has his weapon of choice. I silently curse myself over and over again as I sit down to drink some water. We rifle through the supplies to find an abundance of food, water, and medical supplies. Good. As long as we're together Blake and I are safe. Although it's only been a few hours, I'm feeling restless in the arena, like I have to do something. I guess the Academy never leaves you.

"I'm going to look for a vantage point to look at the arena. Does anyone want to come?" Only Blake nods, and I look at the rest of them like they're stupid. "What are you guys going to do? Finding a high point will give us priceless information about the arena."

"Annie, we're tired. There have been twelve deaths today, we don't need to worry for a few more hours. Plus, you need someone to watch the supplies while you're gone. We'll try and strategize a little, too. How long will you be?" The girl from 2 explains, and I find myself wanting to know her name. I know I've heard it, but it didn't stick. None of them did, except for Mason. I like the girl from 2, but knowing her name will only making killing her more difficult.

"Sorry, I just can't sit still," I smile at her. "The school we went to in 4," they all smile knowingly at me when I say that, "didn't allow much for rest. We won't be longer than an hour, don't worry. I'm going to try and see if we can get to the top of that white tower." They all nod their assent and yell their good lucks to me and Blake, and I wave at them. The only person in the alliance that I don't like is Mason, and I curse myself for doing this. I need to be more cold.

Blake wraps an arm around my shoulder, and I smile a little at him. There are trees on both sides of the stretch of grass, and little perpendicular dirt paths. I pull my waterbottle out of my backpack and take a sip. This arena is hot and humid. I sneak a look over at Blake out of the corner of my eye. His body is tense and alert, and his eyes are roaming around the trees and the stone buildings on each side of the grass. He looks like a predator looking for his prey, and I feel my face heating up. He's beautiful.

When he catches my eye, I blush, because I should be studying our surroundings as well. But I'm too busy studying him. He pushes me playfully and I laugh loudly, knowing that the only people who can hear us are terrified of us. We walk for a little bit until we reach the white tower, which looms tall above us.

"Well, we can't climb it," Blake says lamely. I laugh. Obviously we can't climb it. So we walk around the tower and find a small building attached. "This looks promising." I nod, and we push open a door. I pull an axe from the sling on my back, on high alert. This would be a perfect place for a tribute to hide. They would have a vantage point and know when someone else was coming. Blake managed to get a hold of a trident, which have been present in the Cornucopia since Finnick's Games. We find another door that leads to a dark and dingy stairwell. There is a pair of metal sliding doors and a button on the wall next to it, but it won't open. So we head for the stairs, and I thank the Academy for physically toning my body, because the climb is exhausting. There is no one hiding out in the curved, spiral staircase, and when we reach the top, it's empty as well. We have to search around extensively with our night glasses on, but eventually we declare that it's clear. There are windows when we reach the top of the stairs, and I peer out of one of them. This side shows a long, rectangular pool filled with water but the water looks grimy. No one will be drinking from that. The pool has a stone building at the end, and the areas on both sides have dense greenery and trees. Come to think of it, most of the arena that isn't filled with buildings has dense greenery. On the right side of the pool there is a small pond, and I can see a tribute making camp there. I smile. On the left side I can see a another lake, so I move to the window on my left and see that it's larger than the pond. The water there looks as crystal clear and blue as the river, which is wider than I originally thought it was. The dam looms in the background, gray and foreboding. I'm trying to get an estimate for how large the arena is, and I'm guess around fifteen square miles. Large, but not unmanageably large. The arena for the Second Quarter Quell was at least twice this size. The tedious part of it will be rooting people out of the buildings that are everywhere. I squint out the window to see how many row boats have been taken across the river. Only two. It's a stupid idea for any tribute that hasn't been trained to stay on this side of the river, but it's advantageous for us. Perhaps when we get the others up and moving, we can go stab holes in the boats so they're stranded on this side. I look over at Blake, who is staring out one of the other windows. I can only see the side of his face, and I study him intently. His black hair, only a shade darker than mine, catches in the light of the sun that's beginning to move down on the horizon. When he turns his face all the way, his face is surrounded by a halo of golden light. His eyes, framed by black eyelashes, pierce into mine. I walk over to him, never taking my eyes off the face that is shrouded in sunlight. I'm sure the cameras are on us right now. I can feel it. All of Panem is watching us. But I don't much care, because his eyes are bluer than the sky and deeper than the ocean and crash over me like a wave desperate to reach shore.

I can't breathe. Blake stands completely still, except for the hand that he stretches out to me. Instead of taking it, I hold my hand out and our fingertips touch. Here we are, inches apart, drowning in eyes so similar and so different, only our fingers touching. When a piece of hair falls into my face, he brushes it out of the way gently. I touch his lips with my thumb. Simple touches. We don't need any more than this, because our souls are intertwined, twisted round and round, exploring one another. The light shines into the room where we are and the city stretches out around us, and I never want to leave.

"I love you," I whisper, and the ghost of a smile comes to his lips.

"I love you more," he whispers back, and he slowly kisses my lips. I smile, and he breaks away. "How are you the most beautiful woman on Earth even in the arena?"

"How are you so perfect no matter what?" I ask, and he just laughs. Tugging on my braid, he pulls me over to the window. The building with the dome on it is in the distance, not too far, and I just see scores and scores of buildings everywhere. He points past the dome building and I see a small ripple in the air. "The arena is a lot smaller than I thought." I remark, seeing the force field that traps the arena in.

"Yes, but it's a bit larger when you look out this way," he says, pulling me over to the next window, which looks in the opposite direction of the river. More buildings, more trees, more grass. I see the force field ripple in the distance, further out than in the other direction. "Plus, Annie, think of all the buildings, plus the other side of the river. This arena is brilliant, even if it's smaller than we thought at the beginning."

"I wonder what the deal is with the dam."

"I know. Dams don't spread out to the land on each side of the river. They just don't. And this one goes on for miles and miles," he comments. In the tower, we are about two hundred feet below the top of the dam.

"Could be to regulate the water levels in the river," I suggest. "Oh, I forgot. On my side there are two lakes, and one has a tribute camped there." He walks over to the window I looked out first, and squints to see the tribute hunkered down in a small man-made island in the middle of the lake.

"This is good," he says, and I smile. "Think we should head back?" He asks, and I roll my eyes. Our brief holiday in this beautiful tower is almost finished, but first I kiss him in this room filled with fading golden sunlight. I want to linger here and look over this ancient city forever, but it isn't possible. He knows it, too, so he pulls away from the kiss and gently rests his forehead on mine. "You and me, Cresta. You and me," he says, his voice shaking.

"It'll always be you and me, Blake," I say back, before pinching his cheek. He laughs, and I say, "Love you."

"Love you, you lethal little girl," he says, still laughing. We pull our night glasses out of our packs and pull them on, racing each other down the stairs, his trident and my axe gripped tightly in our hands. By the time we're at the bottom, we're breathless, still laughing and clutching our sides. I pull Blake to his feet, and we try to compose ourselves before we walk back to our allies, who we find sleeping when we arrive back at the campsite. It looks like the girl from 1 was on watch, but she fell asleep leaning against the Cornucopia. We were gone for a little more than an hour and they're already asleep?

I realize they're sleeping because we're going night hunting for tributes. I don't want anyone but Blake to know about the tribute I saw at the pond, because I want her to be my kill. I don't want anyone else to take the credit for it. So Blake and I talk over where we want to go look for tributes, and he reveals that he saw the girl from 6 take off in the direction of the river. I tell him that 11 disappeared into the trees north of the Cornucopia, and is probably sheltered in a building somewhere in that direction. We debate for a little while whether to get rid of 6 or 11 first, and we ultimately decide that 6 is above him on our kill list. The boy from 11 will not come out until he needs to, and I'm not sure I want to find him yet. Let him starve a little bit first, let him grow weaker. I rifle through the food bags until I find a little thing that says it's dehydrated beef stew. So I search for a few more bags with the same lable and I boil some water over a fire, adding the beef stew packages until the air around us smells delicious. While we wait for the others to wake up, I snack on some nuts and District 4 bread. Blake tells me a story, in which he almost asked me out when we were fifteen and swimming at the beach, but he chickened out. I grin wickedly at him.

"Well, take a number. Everyone wants me," I joke, but in my seductive Finnick voice that just makes Blake laugh. He's only one of two people that the fake seductive voice wouldn't work on, because he is one of the two people I've been intimate with. And he knows me too well. "Why did you almost ask me out that day, anyway? I was at the beach literally every day, and so were you." It was true. Even if I spent my time with Finnick there, most of the time we spent alone was at night—when people weren't watching us—so we spent a lot of time with our other friends during the day. Blake was an integral part of that. Before I got together with Finnick, I remember trying to look pretty for our beach days so Blake would like me. I roll my eyes at the memory.

"I don't know, Annie, there was something special about that day. We spent all day splashing each other and swimming and drinking rum, remember? And Finnick was in the Capitol, so the older kids weren't with us?" I do remember that day. We had a tropical storm a week or so before that, but it didn't destroy anything, just took a little bit of wood off the pier. The tides were high for a while after that, and one day after training, my friends and I took off to go swim in the high tides. I was a little sad that Finnick was off in the Capitol, but more determined to have fun without him so I didn't look dependent. And it was one of the funnest days of my life. Michael, Hala, a girl named Beatrice, Samuel Peters—who took the Games practical with us—Blake, and I all went our favorite beach in 4. It was down the strand a bit from the main coast of our section of District 4. Of course, we hadn't seen much of the other towns in 4, but we believed it was the best beach in the district, of course. It was secluded, located below a high cliff that jutted out above us. We drank bottles and bottles of rum and swam in the sea and laid on the sand until our skin was three shades darker and we were all stumbling around drunkenly. We were a bunch of kids. Now, I've seen the life drain out of a child's eyes by my hand, watched blood seep out of cut bodies, and I can't turn back. But it hasn't destroyed me like it did Finnick. Not yet.

So I look at Blake and smile. "I do remember that day. It was fun," I say, whispering. He pinches my cheek, and I ask again, "So what was it about that day?"

"You were wearing a green swimsuit that exactly matched your eyes, and your hairy was crazy curly that day, not just wavy. I just loved watching you swim, you were so good at it, you looked so graceful and powerful. You would come up from underwater and push the hair out of your eyes and I was mesmerized. Then I would splash you or dunk you and you would laugh like your life was so carefree. On my worst days, all I have to do is remember the way you laughed, the way you smiled, and I'm better," he tells me, a smile on his face and his eyes a million miles away.

"You've loved me for a long time," I say in a hushed voice. There's fire in my cheeks and it grows as I look up at him.

"Yeah, well, it's about time you paid attention," he jokes. I give him a small smile and he strokes my cheek with one hand. We've been sitting here talking for such a long time that the sun has gone down and the fire lights our campsite. I stand up to shake my allies awake, kicking Mason in the side and pretending it was the boy from 1. I flash Blake a smile and the grin on his face is a mile wide.

"Oi, guys, I made beef stew!" I say, and at the mention of food, they all sit up a bit faster. They spoon soup into bowls as the Panem Anthem plays in the sky. I look up, hungry to see which tributes died today. I'm dreading seeing the ones that died by my hand.

The first tributes face I see is the boy from 3. My heart squeezes as I realize that it's the little boy that I killed at the Cornucopia. The one I threw my bloody knife at. The girl from 3 has died as well, and from the look on Blake's face, I can tell she was his kill. The girl from 5 shows, and she was mine as well. I gulp and say a silent goodbye to her. I also killed the girl from 8. The faces flash by, showing my last kill, the boy from 10. The last person that shows is the girl from 12 that Mason killed.

"So who's left then?" The girl from 1 asks, bread in her mouth.

"The boy from 5, the girl from 6, both from 7, the boy from 11, and the boy from 12," I recite in a monotone. The boys from 7 and 12 seem to have a personal vendetta against me, but the target on my back doesn't bother me. I'm more skilled than both of them. "I saw the boy from 11 go north," I comment. "But Blake and I have decided that the girl from 6 is a bigger threat because the boy from 11 will hunker down until the final few."

"Since when did Blake lead this pack?" Mason cuts in, glaring at Blake. I stand up, sauntering over to Mason. I give him a smile and he looks at me hungrily. I run a finger down his chest, and he shivers.

"Since I decided so," I whisper in his ear, letting my tongue flick it just a little bit. Mason seems mollified, but I stalk off in Blake's direction after a minute.

"Anyway, what do you all think?" I ask, directing the question at the girls of the alliance.

"Well what did you learn about the arena?" The girl from 2 asks analytically. "I think we should hear that before we decide who to pursue." Blake opens his mouth to speak.

"We learned that there are a couple of small lakes in the area of the river, and only two of the rowboats to cross the river have been taken. The arena has plenty of trees and places for cover, including the buildings which dominate the arena. There are more dense buildings north of here and will take longer to comb through. Plus, the tributes will be needing water soon, so I believe they'll flock to the river shortly. Plus we can poke around some of the buildings south of here on the way." Blake stays silent about the tribute I saw at the pond. I'm sure somewhere on the mission, Blake and I will separate so we can take the tribute out.

"How big is it?"

"I originally thought around fifteen square miles, which is relatively large, but then I saw the ripple of the force field indicating it was much smaller. I would say anywhere between five and ten square miles," I approximate, and the rest of the tributes nod thoughtfully. "But I think the small size is offset by the number of buildings. Which are a lot."

"I say we go south," the boy from 1 cuts in, his hand cupping his chin. He's deep in thought. The girl from 1 nods her head in agreement, but the girl from 2 shakes her head. I was expecting agreement from her, as she seems to like me.

"Shouldn't we try and eliminate some of the buildings as soon as possibly? As well as our strongest competition?"

"That's what we thought, but the boy from 11 is smart and he's got sponsors, a lot of them. He won't need water anytime soon, and we're betting he is so well hidden he won't need to come out anytime soon, either. Probably waiting for this alliance to dissolve so he has a better chance," Blake comments, and no one acknowledges the comment about the alliance dissolving, because we all know it will happen. Pretty soon, too. I just want District 7 dead before I leave the alliance, but that might not be possible.

They all nod, and we're quiet until we finished our stew. My stomach is full, but my throat is itching for water. I drink an entire bottle and look at the watch I found in the Cornucopia. I feel bad for the people out there on their own, because they don't have access to things like watches. Which would be a little miserable, not knowing how long you've been in here for. A little after midnight. The day has flown by so quickly, but I'm guessing the bloodbath took up more time than I originally thought.

I take Blake's hand and we throw on our night glasses, moving quickly through the night towards our next victim.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hi guys! Chapter 18, here you go :) I love suggestions and I love constructive criticism, so please give me some! Love you all :) Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins, obviously.**

"2! Go look further south! We'll go look by the rectangular pool!" I shout to the pair from 2. "1, go southeast! There are some buildings you could rifle through down there!" The girl from 1 loads her bow with an arrow and nods at me determinedly. "We'll meet up at the circular building by the big lake," I tell them, before Blake and I take off towards the pool. "Think she'll still there?" I whisper to Blake, once the pair from 2 are out of earshot.

"Yeah, I think so. It's the dead of night, she won't be moving." But we're careful and very quiet. After we took off from camp, we searched the areas nearest to the Cornucopia, including the area immediately north. Now, we're on our own. It's better this way. I can breathe when it's only Blake here. Here in the arena, I don't think about Finnick. I feel like the only person I love is Blake in here, because he's the one in front of me. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

I give him an easy smile as we jog. We've reached a circular stone thing in front of the pool. I look around curiously, wondering what the hell it is. There are words on each little stone pillar, and I think they might be names. Names of people who died in some Hunger Games, maybe? But there were more than 24.

"What is this place?" Blake whispers and runs his hand over the name California. That's a strange name for a girl.

"I have no idea," I whisper back, in awe. This is so odd. "This place has to be real, the Gamemakers could never invent this."

"I know," he says, his voice still hushed.

We walk around the place, looking at the names of the people, then move on to the trees near the pool. We search them thoroughly, until we reach the stone building at the top of the pool. It's an odd building, with a statue of some guy sitting on a chair, but I ignore that, because I feel the presence of someone. The girl I saw before.

We go down the right path first, finding yet another strange area with gray people standing everywhere I try throwing a knife at one to see if it's real, but it just sticks in the stone. Nothing else happens. There's nothing else around, no tributes. We walk back up to the big building, then go down the next path, to the left. This is where the girl is. We walk past a long black wall, then various dirt paths with overgrown grass and overturned trees, until we find it. We are absolutely silent as we search the trees surrounding the area. I'm thoughtful for just a moment, as I observe the beautiful willow trees and the big white tower in the distance. I notice that there's a flashing red light at the top, perhaps to give the tributes some sense of direction. This is beautiful, peaceful. Then I hear a rustle and whip around to Blake. I point at the direction it came from. He scurries off to find her, while I check the little island where she camped. Yep, she was here. There are embers from a fire and a small knife laying beside a backpack. Shit. She's armed.

She must have seen us or heard us and scurried off to a tree.

"Annie," Blake says, and there's a playful touch to his tone. "Look what I found!" I run over there to find a girl tied to the tree. "I found her in some branch up there, so I brought her down for you."

"Blake, she can be yours. You got her down," I say obligingly, looking at the expression on the girls face.

"Nah, she'll all yours. You spotted her earlier."

"You've been hunting me all day?" The girl squeaks. She's from District 7.

"Yep. You should really learn to move under cover, not right out in the open. Especially with that vantage point," I point at the big tower. "Now, I promise to make your death painless as long as you give me some information about your district partner."

"Let me go, please. I could help you guys, please! Let me help you find him!" I look at Blake, who is staring into her eyes. Blake is the most excellent judge of character I've ever met, and he can see through anyone.

"You don't know where he is," Blake says casually. "You only know which direction he ran. You barely know him at all."

"No, I do know! I swear I know!"

"Fine, then tell us. We'll leave you tied up here while we look for him, and if your information is good, we'll spare you. If not, you're as good as dead," Blake offers. He's smarter than I am, so he's doing the talking. I can see the wheels spinning in her head, because she thinks she would be able to escape. I saunter up to her and pull out one of my knives. I casually spin it around in my palm.

Then I shove it up against her neck. "If you think you'll be getting away from us, you are plain stupid. Where have you ever tied a knot before, 7? When have you ever done anything but cut down trees? We're from District 4, little girl. You won't be getting out of any knot we tie you to this tree with," I whisper to her, and I can feel her shaking. Now, I haven't my humanity. I don't want to play with her before I kill her. But I need the boy from 7 dead, now. Otherwise Blake and I will wake up to find one of our allies with no head.

"Fine," she whispers. "I'll tell you. Just get away from me," she spits out at me. Once again, I laugh at how much these other districts hate us.

"Where is he?" Blake asks, pushing the tips of his trident into her chest.

"He went southeast from the Cornucopia!" She gasps, "Southeast!"

"How far?" Blake shoots at her.

"As far as he could! He won't cross the river, he's afraid of water!" She says breathlessly, trying to make herself smaller to get away from Blake's trident. The look on his face is casual but I know what he can do with that thing. I smile at him, and he blows me a kiss. "He wants Annie!" She says.

"What was that?" The expression on Blake's face is hard and vicious now. "He wants Annie?"

"Yes," she gasps, "He'll be looking for her. Wants more than to just kill her. Wants her." She is positively out of breath as she explains, eyeing Blake down warily. She's right to be afraid of him in this moment. The second my name came out of her mouth, he turned into a killer.

"How do you know this?" I ask calmly, while Blake is trying to contain his anger.

"I didn't know him before the Reaping but as soon as he saw you volunteer on the recap he started talking about how badly he wanted to have you before he killed you! He scared me, I didn't even know him! That's all he told our mentors about, how good you looked in your training uniform and how good your—" she chokes on the words, like she doesn't want to say them.

"What did he say?" Blake says, his voice quiet but livid.

"How good your blood would feel on his hands while he was screwing you," she spits out in disgust.

"Let's go, Annie," Blake tells me, taking his trident. The girl relaxes against the tree, but I tell him to wait.

"What weapons do you have?" I ask the girl quietly.

"A knife and some kind of throwing axes I found in a backpack."

"Hmm. I thought the only axes they had were the ones laying on the ground. You any good with them?"

"Yes," she says, and I cut her rope from the tree.

"You're with us until our alliance splits," I say, pulling her arm. Blake looks at me incredulously.

"What?" She splutters.

"Don't you want to survive, girl?" Blake asks her. "Annie is being generous to you right now, considering how easy it would be for her to put a knife through your heart."

"My name isn't girl. It's Kylie," she says. No, she isn't saying anything. She's spitting out the words.

"Why do you hate us so much?" I ask her, squatting down and resting my elbows on my knees. I look up at her incredulously.

"I don't hate you in particular. You two seem fine. I hate your districts. Do you know how much it kills to see kids reaped every year and see them die just because you, 1, and 2 always have some fucking beasts that volunteer and slaughter our children? You'll never understand, because the kids reaped in 4 know they won't go to the Games, and they think it's a damn shame. The Reaping is a death sentence for us, and it's a fucking honor for you!" She rants. "Do you think it's fair that you get away with training and we have to die bit by bit in the Games?"

"You better shut your mouth talking like that," Blake says casually, picking at his nails.

"What's it matter? I'm already in hell," she spits. "And by the way, fuck your alliance." She turns on her heels and starts to walk away. She turns around once more. "And fuck the Games."

I don't want to kill her, I really don't. But her back is exposed to me and she's walking away. And if I don't kill her, I'll be seen as treasonous because I let her go after she went on some anti-Capitol, anti-Games rant.

So I let the knife fly from my hand, but she doesn't die. Not right away. She lays on the ground, trying to crawl away from me. But I walk up to her easily and pull her to her feet. I look right into her eyes and say, "I'm sorry, Kylie. But only one person gets to win this." The knife is in her heart before the last word leaves my mouth. As my penance, I look into her eyes the whole time she is dying. I shove her dead body away from me, wiping the blood from my knife desperately on my pants. I star to breathe, but the breaths come desperately and I'm not getting enough air. I just looked into her eyes while she died. I saw all of the light and memories leave her eyes as she ceased to exist. Simply because I didn't let her go. The fifth life I've taken.

Those wide brown eyes will haunt me every day until I die. I crouch down, hyperventilating, until Blake pulls me to my feed and hugs me.

"Listen, baby, you had to do it, we all have to do it," Blake whispers. I know the cameras are off of us right now, because killing someone and then freaking out about it is weak. But I'm not losing sponsors, I know I'm not. I have the highest kill count of the Games. "Baby, it's okay. You're still the same Annie, baby. You're the same girl I fell in love with." He whispers things like this in my ear until I stop hyperventilating. I look at him, and kiss him on the mouth. He kisses me back, and I forget we're in the Games for a minute. When I close my eyes, the air is hot and humid like District 4, even in the dead of night, and the air is clean. I forget there is anyone else in the world but him and I. It is just him and I, walking down dusty roads in District 4, diving into the sea, kissing, making love, throwing knives at dummies. Nothing more. There is nothing more.

I am his. He is mine. Nothing more.

Until we hear the boom of the cannon.

Before we take off running, we steal all of District 7's supplies, her one knife, and her throwing axes. Blake takes the throwing axes, and I take the knife. I still have my five belts of knives and two axes, and all he's carrying at the moment is his trident and two spears slung across his back. We take off running, using the white tower to determine where southeast is. Because that's where the hovercraft is flying towards. It lingers there for a while, because there must be tributes fighting down there. Blake and I were the fastest students at the Academy, with both us able to run a mile in five minutes, sometime a little under. The three or so miles it takes us to run to the site over which the hovercraft is buzzing takes about fifteen minutes. There must be a vicious fight going on, because the hovercraft doesn't move for our entire run. What we find is disgusting. The girl from 1 is on the ground, with all of her limbs chopped off, her head rolling around on the ground. The boy from 1 is trying to get his spear into 7, but he is injured badly. He is missing a hand.

The boy from 7 is being cruel and torturing his victims before he kills them. I can tell, because he doesn't have so much as a scratch on him. The boy from 1 is fighting hard, but he'll lose. I know he will. We are far enough back from them that I whisper to Blake that I'm going to kill the boy from 1 and then run. I tell him to run back to the camp. Hopefully the pair from 2 saw 1's face in the sky and will head back to camp instead of our hiding place.

"No, Annie. You're not doing this by yourself."

"Oh, yes I am, Blake. Listen, it'll be simple. A knife into 1's heart, I'll get a knife somewhere into District 7, so he'll be injured a least, and I'll run off. I'm faster than everyone, I know I am. But I'm not putting you in danger, so go!" I whisper-yell at him, and it's then that I've realized. I would do anything to save Blake. I would be willing to risk my life so he could get away. Maybe I love Blake more than Finnick. I love him at least the same. And I've chosen. I thought I chose before, but that was before I was put into this arena. It was before I killed and before I knew what seeing Blake die would mean. "Just trust me, Blake. I'm not dying yet." I kiss him roughly and he nods at me.

"Scream my name if you need me and I'll turn around."

"Don't bet on it. I love you," I whisper.

"I love you," he whispers back. He takes off, winding through streets and buildings. Headed towards the big white tower that dominates this place. I wait about ten minutes and I look down at the dismembered body and think of my body in her place. I just shudder and look up. The boy from 7 has now cut on 1's arms, and blood is shooting everywhere. The boy from 7's back is to me, and 1 is looking right at me. I know he sees me. I mouth "I'm sorry" at him before I throw a knife hard into his heart. District 7 whips around, and I get the shot I'm looking for. I release a knife and it hits him in the thigh. He lets out a scream of pain, and he tries limping towards me. I let another hit him in the other thigh, and he falls to the ground. I'm caught in a moment of indecision. Should I kill him? He screams from the pain and I find that I want him to die a long miserable death. Nothing quick like a knife to the heart. A death painful, like the one he granted my ally. I scoop some dirt off the ground and walk up to him. Before he can reach for his axe, I stick my knife up by his throat.

"Don't move, 7," I say in a low, deadly voice. "I won't kill you now." I rub the dirt in his wounds and spit on them. I don't know if it will speed up infection, but I hope so. I spit on his face, and it mixes in with the blood spatters from killing my ally and dismembering the other. "I bet your blood will feel good on my hands." I stand up and give him a swift kick to the side while pressing my other foot into his throat. I kick him in the jaw, hard. I kick him everywhere I can reach. But I stop when I need to. He'll be in pain for a while, but he won't die. If he doesn't die from this infection, I'll cut him up for the cameras. Just like he did to my allies.

I walk away from him, but I see movement out of the corner of my eye. He's pulling my knife from his leg. At first, I think it's just to ease the pain, but then I see him grip the handle and I'm turning and running. Because even if he is holding it and throwing it incorrectly, it can still injure me.

And injure me it does.

The knife flies into my back. It didn't go handle deep, but I clench my teeth and scream into them. I don't stop running though, because there is another knife in his other leg, and I have to get out of range. When I run another mile, I collapse on the sidewalk. There is no movement around me, so I try and reach behind me to pull the thing out, but I can't reach it. I want to scream for Blake, but I'm too far. Someone else could find me, and while I could kill them injured, I don't really want to. I don't want to fight someone when I'm like this.

So I pull myself to my feet and start to jog again. I take little sips of water as I jog. The going is slow, because I'm bleeding a lot from the cut. When I finally see the golden horn, dawn is beginning to break. It took me more than twice as long to get back than it did for me to run the three miles there. I try to pick up my pace, but I fall on the ground. "Blake!" I scream, and I see a figure that's pacing around turn his head towards me. "Blake! Help!" I scream again, and I don't care if anyone can hear me because Blake will kill them.

I notice District 2 is not back yet.

Blake is at my side in an instant. "Annie! Annie! What the hell happened to you?" I suddenly feel stupid. Why didn't I kill 7? I know I want him to suffer, but I could've just done it! I wouldn't have a knife sticking out of my back if I had killed him.

So I lie. "I didn't want to have another panic attack like I did after the girl," I whisper, so quietly the cameras can't pick it up. His face softens. "Just wanted to injure him so the cuts would get infected and he would die," which was the truth, honestly. "When I was going to leave he pulled a knife out of his leg and threw it at my back."

"It's okay, Annie, don't worry," he says, as he turns me on my belly.

"Blake?" My voice is hoarse and I think I'm about to pass out.

"Yes, baby?" He smooths my hair down and I smile just for a moment.

"I choose you," I whisper.

He whispers something back, but I don't quite catch it, because I'm already gone.


	19. Chapter 19

**Helloooo all! Here's Chapter 19! I know the Games are progressing quickly, but I felt that a quick Games would be necessary for Annie's mental deterioration. She expects to have a couple of weeks with Blake, but is only allotted a few days. I hope you all like the chapter! Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins!**

I wake up and the only thing that can register is the pain. "Argh," I groan. In a minute, Blake is by my side, and I scream into my teeth. Getting a knife thrown at your back is painful.

"Annie, let me help you," Blake says, his voice filled with concern. In a minute, he helps me to a sitting position, and I wince. I notice that he took the blade out when I was passed out, and I also notice I only have my sports bra on.

"Why am I naked?" I ask, groggily. Blake laughs, but his voice is filled with worry.

"I tried to patch up your back, sweetie," his voice is so soft and so gentle. "Finnick sent some stuff for you but I wanted to wait until you were awake to use it. He sent you a note," he explains.

He detaches the note from the tube of medicine and hand it to me, his face impassive. I unfold it, not wanting to see how much I've let Finnick down. I chose to give all of my love to Blake. I chose to fight for him. He will be disappointed.

_I don't care if you choose him. Just don't die._

_ –Finnick_

Tears well up in my eyes and I want to scream again, but I can't. I can't show myself as weak. So I take a deep breath and shove the note deep into my backpack where no one will find it. I'll think about Finnick later, when I have to.

"Hit me with the medicine, Blake," I say, trying a joking tone of voice. He laughs, and tells me not to scream. When the medicine hits my back, it burns so badly it feels like I'm being burned at the stake. But after a minute, the burning is replaced by a cooling feeling, and my back feels a little numb. I smile at Blake, because it feels better. For the first time since I woke up, the edges of my vision aren't black, so I look around properly. The District 2s still aren't back.

"What the hell? Where are the 2s?" I ask, and Blake shakes his head at me.

"They haven't left us yet. They came back a little after dawn, when you were out. I told them what happened to the 1s, but be careful Annie. I didn't tell them that you killed the boy. Even if you did it out of mercy, they'd still see it as a betrayal and wouldn't trust you. So stick with it. I told them that 7 killed the 1s and we killed the girl from 7. I also told them that you got injured and they set off trying to scout the rest of the arena. No cannons yet today," he explains and I nod a little bit. Twelve died at the Cornucopia. I killed two in the middle of the night. District 7 killed one. We are two days in and we're almost to the final eight. These Games will be quick. I'm about to say as much to Blake when I feel a tiny tremor in the ground. It turns into the ground shaking and moving so much that Blake is thrown to the ground and I have to dig my knives into the grass to stay stationary. I don't know how long it lasts, but it seems like hours. When the shakes finally subside, I rip my knives out of the grass and fling one at the Cornucopia in frustration. There are still small tremors but I can finally get up. The wound on my back already feels like it's closing up. Blake is still groaning on the ground, but he's uninjured. I don't know how strong the earthquake was, but when I look up at the dam, there is a massive crack running through the middle of it. The white tower looks like it could come down at any minute, and I look over at Blake. I say one word to him, pointing at the massive grey structure.

"Flood."

His eyes widen, but he doesn't say anything. He just nods aggressively, reaches toward a packet of dried beef, and tosses it to me. "You need to eat, Annie," he says quietly. I don't think I'm that hungry, but when I bite into the strip of meat, I groan. Blake lights a fire and makes some sort of soup over it with lamb in it. I eat until I can't eat anymore, and Blake just watches me. I drink two bottles of water when I'm done, and then look at my watch.

"Blake, why didn't you tell me it was two in the afternoon?" I ask him sharply, like I'm chiding him. Which I am. This is the Games, I don't want to miss so much.

"You were injured and you were exhausted. So I let you sleep. Sue me," he says, a small touching the corners of his lips. I smile back a little bit and decide that there's nothing to do but keep watch. "We need another vantage point to look at the arena," Blake comments, pointing at the white tower. "That thing might come down soon."

"We could take a quick trip to the top of it one last time. See where our allies are," I suggest, because I'm restless and even though it would be nice to lay around camp with Blake all day, I need to get on my feet.

"You're injured, Annie," Blake protests and I wave his comment away with my hand.

"Shut it, I'm fine. The medicine helped," and it really did. The stuff is working so quickly I can barely feel the cut in my back anymore. I laugh when I think that less than twelve hours ago I had a knife stuck in it.

"If you say so." He helps me to my feet, and I look through the supplies a little bit. I still have my five belts of knives, but the fifth one isn't full, considering I've used a few of them. I have my two axes still in the sling on my back, but I see that there is a hole through which I'll be able to stuff a spear and stow it safely. So I rifle through the spears, picking a couple up and throwing them against the Cornucopia. I decide the larger one suits me better, and I turn to Blake, whose eyes roam all over me. I smile at him and realize that we haven't been overly touchy since we entered the arena. I walk over to him and run my hand down his arm. He sweeps a long piece of hair out of my eye, and he leans his forehead against mine.

"My time is growing shorter, Annie," he whispers and I pull back quickly, staring into his eyes. He's still smiling at me, and I realize how hard I've been trying to forget that this is the arena. How hard I've been pretending that we'll come out of this together. But we can't. No one will ever be able to.

"Or mine," I whisper back, and tears fill my eyes. "I don't want to live without you."

"Just know that no matter what happens, I love you. I love you so much," he says, and the words have conviction. I look up at blues eyes that could glow in the midst of the darkest night, eyes that reveal a soul so good and so deep that I can't fathom it.

"You and me, just like in training," I say, and I don't care if I explicitly revealed the Academy to the audience. It's not like they didn't know anyways.

"You and me, until the end," he says back. And his lips come crashing down on mine. Ignoring the weapons on my back, I throw myself at him. He catches me, always so steady, always a constant, and I don't want this to end. I would rather stay in the arena forever, indefinitely killing children, than leave this person. I'll never be able to see the ocean without thinking of his eyes. I'll never be able to swim in a peaceful sea again, when all I'm wishing for is a riptide to drag me under.

When we return from the tower, we collapse, exhausted at camp. We spent a lot of time at the top of the tower kissing and talking about old memories from District 4. We spent probably four hours sitting up there, enjoying the view and keeping an eye on the arena. We caught sight of the District 2s, who were across the river. I don't know when they'll be back, and I don't really care. I have half a mind to pack up this entire camp and move with Blake. Which isn't the worst idea in the world.

"Blake," I start, my voice strained from exhaustion. "Why don't we just ditch the 2s? The playing field has gotten pretty slim anyways," I say and I feel timid. I don't even know if that's what I want, but it has to happen eventually. I look up at him, and he's chewing his turkey sandwich with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Who is left?" He asks, his eyes still far away.

"Umm, the 2s, us, the boy from 5, the girl from 6, the boy from 7," his district number passes my lips in a growl, "the boy from 11, and the boy from 12. So, other than us, that's seven left."

"They were pretty far across the river, weren't they?" He asks, and I'm started to get irritated that he won't look at me.

"Yes, Blake," I say, exasperated.

"Where would you suggest we go?"

"The island," I suggest. "You said it would be a good idea yesterday."

"Okay, we go to the river. Do we swim or take a boat?" He asks, and I know that this is his way of coming up with a plan, but I'm getting frustrated.

"We take two, Blake. We are going to raid the Cornucopia dry, and leave the 2s out on their asses. Who says they didn't take as much as they could carry and left us? As far as I'm concerned, this alliance should be over. We're almost to the final eight and we're only on day 2. These Games could be over tomorrow, so we should split as soon as possible," I say. "You and I can both build shelters from scratch, we can make a bunch of net traps all over the island. We'll fortify it and we'll fortify our supplies, so we can still go hunting. What do you say?"

"I say yes, but we need to do it now. We have time to get to the river before they decide to come back. They'll take forever over there, I bet." So we stuff backpacks until they're bursting, and we're each carrying about ten of them, along with enough weapons to supply an army on our backs, but somehow, we manage to get all of the supplies packed up within twenty or so minutes.

"Can we run?" I ask, and he tries just for a few yards.

"Yes, if we go slow," he guesses, and we start out at a jog, which has dulled to a really slow jog by the time we reach the river. We don't see any movement, so we press on, looking for two boats. When we find two boats a little upshore from the island, we load our supplies and begin to row. The rowing motion starts to tear a little at the cut on my back, and I wince with each pull of the oars. When I look over to Blake boats, I'm distracted by the ripple of his muscles and the ease with which he pulls the oars. I feel heat crashing over my body as I watch him, and I know I probably look the same to him. While we use sailboats more commonly in District 4, we've all rowed a rowboat more time than we can count in 4. I'm sure I look as effortlessly strong as he does. He catches my eye and I smile broadly at him. This feels familiar, and I feel like I'm at home in the waves. I want desperately to go for a swim, but obviously I can't. We have to reach the island and make sure our defenses are good before we can leave. Even then, swimming is risky, considering we lost our vantage point when we decided to leave.

Finally, we reach the island, and we pull the boats containing our loot onto the island, wanting to conceal them from anyone looking at the river. We do a sweep of the island, which has concrete paths winding through it and a large area with concrete floors and a small statue of a man.

"This area is too predictable," Blake says. "Anyone coming onto the island would assume we're here."

"Which is why it's a good place. It's too obvious, and they'll see it too. Anyone smart wouldn't make a camp here. We'll conceal ourselves well, but we'll stay here. Rig the whole area." Blake nods his head like he's impressed with me, and we sit down to work. When we go through the supplies, we find enough rope to make forty nets, which we actually do. We still have enough rope left for other things, and we make traps surrounding the whole area. We are so skilled at this that I'm afraid I'll accidentally step into them. But we pick a tree whose branch we tie a rope to we can get around our traps. Anyone who tries to walk into this area will be snared immediately. Which is why we'll hide our supplies here. Blake wanted to leave a small opening for us to walk through, but I didn't want to risk our supplies. So I came up with the rope idea. We have substantial enough strength to climb the rope and get up and down the tree. I look at Blake and he smiles at me. The sun has mostly set by now and I look around the clearing for a good place to sleep. There are bushes forming parallel lines, so I find vines and leaves to weave a mat out of, which I promptly do. With darkness, this makeshift tent blends in with the bushes well enough, and the bushes are spaced far enough that we can lay between them, under cover of the mat. I use a spear to to make the tent, and Blake smiles at me tiredly.

"Who knew you were so resourceful, Annie?" He asks jokingly, and there are dark shadows under his eyes. I wonder idly if he's emotionally or physically exhausted. Or both.

"All of my teachers, Blake," I say sharply, but he knows I'm only kidding. "I'll take watch first," I suggest, and as I expect, he's shaking his head as soon as the words leave my mouth.

"Annie, you were injured and we've been working hard all day. Give yourself a rest."

"Blake, don't lie to me and say that you slept after I got back to camp with the knife in my back," I say, my voice hard and uncompromising.

"So?" is all he says, and I roll my eyes at how stubborn he is. "I don't need to sleep."

"Something is telling me that's also a lie."

"Annie, just shut up! You need sleep more than I do!" His voice rises a little bit, and I walk over to him and shove my hand over his mouth.

"We are not with the 2s anymore, so keep your voice down!" I say in an urgent whisper.

"Just let me keep watch, Annie. Please," he begs, all the fight gone out of him.

"No. I can tell how tired you are. I'll wake you up if anything develops." I'm not going to compromise with him right now, especially with him so exhausted. I wonder how long it's been since he he slept. Come to think of it, he probably hasn't since the night before the arena. After the bloodbath, we went to look out the tower, and we didn't sleep before our night hunting mission. Hmm. He didn't sleep after I came back injured. I look at him, my eyes hard. "Take care of yourself, Blake. You're not doing yourself any favors."

"Fine." I know he's angry with me, but I don't care.

"I love you," I call over my shoulder, but he just climbs inside the little tent. Our supplies are laying between the next cluster of bushes, and I keep my eyes on the trees surrounding the clearing. I look over my shoulder frequently, in the direction of the river where we last saw the 2s, but the night is quiet. I'm two, maybe three hours into my watch when I hear Blake murmuring in his sleep.

"Annie, no. Annie, please don't leave me, I love you so much. Please, Finnick, help her! You said you loved her, why aren't you helping?" The words barely rise above a mutter, but they pierce my heart with more force than a scream would've. They also create a sensation inside of me that spread through me like warm honey, and I'm conflicted. He doesn't want me to leave him. I ignore my watch for just a moment as I climb inside the tent, and I see beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. He's twitching.

"Baby, wake up," I murmur, and the term of endearment is foreign on my tongue, but it's not unpleasant. "Wake up, it's just a dream. I'm fine, baby, I'm right here." The words seem to break him out of his nightmare as his eyes flutter open. My heartbeat lives in every cell of my body as his eyes rise to meet mine, and his hand reaches up to touch my face. My heartbeat lives in my bones, rattling through me as his thumb brushes my lips, his eyes never leaving mine, iridescent blue melting into sea green. My heartbeats lives in my fingertips as his lips wrap around the only three words that will ever be able to break me.

"I love you, Annie."

I don't know why the hell I do it, but I do. I lean down to kiss him, and the feeling is so electric I have to snap back. Whatever the feeling is, I can't have enough of it. So I lean down to kiss him again, and I whisper to him between kisses. I tell him that I love him, I tell him that I don't want him to die, I tell him that we'll find a way. The words fall from my mouth effortlessly and they're gentle like waves as he peppers my skin with kisses. I can taste the ocean on him, and I don't know how, because we're probably thousands of miles away from it. But he is home and he's the waves that engulf my whole body and he is a creature that belongs hundreds of miles below the surf, too beautiful for the world to see, too good for anyone to scar.

As his lips move over mine, and the tides begin to take over my body, I forget that the whole nation is watching. The only thing I can think of are the stars that shimmer over the ocean in District 4, the stars I used to watch with Finnick. I dream of the stars now; I dream of how infinite they are, like the mountains surrounding the glowing city lights of the Capitol, like the never-ending water of the sea, and I find myself wishing against all hope that I can fade away into the stars with Blake, riding on stardust and dreams until the universe runs out.


	20. Chapter 20

**Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins!**

_"Annie," he calls. I know it's him, but I don't look over at him. I just dig my toes deeper in the sand. I look at the horizon and wish I could sink into the deep blue, where I can finally be left alone. "Annie!" He calls to me again and I finally look over at him. He's walking towards me with his shorts on, and his shirt is off. There's sand smudged all over him. I try to disguise the hurt that I feel._

_"What do you want, Blake?" I ask, my voice tired. Finnick is gone all the time now. I barely see him. I'm too tired for this._

_"Annie, come on. Don't be like this," he pleads, finally reaching me. I glance down the beach and see the girl staring at me with disgust. I wave at her, and she turns her head._

_"So who is she?" I ask, scorn in my voice. He looks down, and I finally see a little shame in him. I have no right to be upset with him, because I have Finnick and he's never been mine. Who am I to be jealous? I decide it's because he's my only friend, especially now that Finnick is gone all the time. I don't want this dumb girl to take my place. I doubt she's known him half the time that I have. Blake spends all his time with me, and our other friends from the Academy. But mostly me. Now I've been replaced._

_"Her name is Angie," he says quietly._

_"Tell her to go back to District 9, where her stupid name came from. No one is named Angie here," I retort, and it's stupid of me to make fun of her name. Obviously, Angie isn't a District 4 name, but who cares? I just need something to be mean about._

_"Annie, who cares if her name is a District 9 name? Honestly?" He asks, and his voice sounds tired. Mine is filled with venom. I hate how much better than me he is._

_"Whatever, Blake. Better not keep her waiting," I shoot back venomously. I wish I could take the ire out of my voice and be nice to him, but I can't make myself stop. It's times like this that I wish I could be more gentle and forgiving. But I'm hotheaded and quick to ignite. Blake is the opposite. He is calmer than the sea at daybreak, and is gentler than the waves that rock their way to shore at sunset. I look up at him, surprised by the tears that sting my eyes. "You're my only friend, especially with Finnick gone. Now you've replaced me with some stupid girl."_

_"Annie, no one could ever replace you," he says, and his voice is earnest. I look up at him and my stomach does a backflip. I feel vulnerable. My eyes flood with tears again. What a stupid, sixteen year old girl I am._

_"How could you just kiss her like that?" I ask, and I try to keep my voice casual. I can't. I've done much more than kiss Finnick, but Blake has never seen us kiss. No one really has. I wonder how he'd feel if he walked up on Finnick on top of me._

_"I'm sorry, Annie. She doesn't mean anything. I'll go tell her to leave," he says, and his voice doesn't sound tired any more. Maybe he realized that he hurt me. I don't even know why I'm hurt, honestly. Maybe because I'm the only girl in his life, really. I don't want to share that spot._

_I watch Blake walk away and I smile to myself. Maybe it isn't about winning, but I feel good that she means that little to him. He would never do that to me, I know it. I watch as she points at me, her face angry. She says something to him, and I hear Blake's voice rise._

_"Don't you dare talk about Annie like that!" He yells, and I smile. I give the girl a little wave with my fingers. She glowers at me and stalks off, throwing a handful of sand in Blake's face as she does so. He walks over to me, and there's a smile on his sandy face. "Annie Banannie! Guess who's free now?" He picks me up and twirls me around in a lung-crushing hug, but I laugh and he doesn't let go of me. He carries me like a child out to the ocean, and all I can think is that I'm glad to have my friend back._

Blake goes back to sleep and the night presses on. I think of all the times I saw Blake with others girls, and I laugh to myself. How stupid I've been. Did I really think I was hurt because I, his best friend, didn't want to be replaced? I suppose I had Finnick then, so the only thing I could do was bury how I felt. But there's no need now, with one of our deaths looming on the horizon. I don't consider anything but a District 4 victory.

It's funny now that I think about it, sitting in the dark, that I haven't been afraid once since the Games started. Not for myself, not for Blake. Fear is foreign to me. I wonder what it's like for the kids who haven't trained their whole lives for this, like the girl from District 7. She was afraid when Blake found her and tied her to the tree. I could smell the fear reeking from her pores. I'm a predator. That's what I've been trained to be, and predators aren't afraid of animals lower than them on the food chain.

When I killed her, though, there wasn't an ounce of fear in her wide brown eyes. Only contempt. Contempt for me, for Blake, for our training, for the Games, for Panem. Hatred and contempt. I wonder idly if that is what the other districts are like, full of contempt for the Games. It's something that is hard to imagine for me, because the Hunger Games are considered the greatest honor in District 4. Even when Blake was chosen to go into the arena with me, he couldn't say no. The honor of participating in the Games is too great.

The sun begins to rise off to the east, and I appreciate its beauty as it peeks over the trees on our island. I've never seen an arena this beautiful. I've never seen an arena this real.

I let Blake sleep for a little while longer. Logically, I should be exhausted, but my mind is alert and I don't think I could sleep if I tried. I get up and rifle through our supplies to find bread, roast beef, and cheese, out of which I make four sandwiches. Blake and I are going to push ourselves to the limit today, looking for tributes. I know these Games can't last much longer, but I don't want my time with Blake to run out. I'm torn.

I gulp down some water and watch the sun rise. I miss coffee. I miss my parents' boat. I miss staring at the stars in the middle of the ocean. With a sigh, I realize ruminating on the things I miss won't help me win the Games. Or Blake.

I shake him awake, and I smile at his eyes open slowly. He rubs them with the back of his hands and I surprise him by planting a kiss on his mouth.

"Good morning to you, too, Cresta," he says, with a sleepy smile on his face. "You should sleep."

"No, I'm okay. I'm not even tired, " I hand him his sandwiches. "We need to go looking for tributes today, Blake."

"You're right. I have a feeling these Games will be quick," he says, and he bites into his first sandwich. "Thanks for the food, Annie."

"You're welcome. And you're welcome, Panem, for the wonderful show we gave you last night!" I raise my voice a little and Blake laughs.

"Yeah, sorry about that!" He calls, and for a moment I don't care that people can hear us. We had sex on live television for the whole country to see. There's nothing to hide now. Laughter grips my sides, and it's contagious. Blake and I are laughing so hard tears come streaming out of our eyes, and I'm clutching my sides.

"They saw us naked!" Blake chokes out, and his statement brings more laughter from both of us.

"Lucky we're so sexy then," I laugh, and at this, he stands up and seductively pulls off his shirt, trying not to laugh. The laughter bubbles from my lips and I find that I can't stop. I pull my tank top and bra up and flash the sky. This makes Blake erupt in laughter, and eventually we have to fall down on the ground because we can't contain it. I don't know if I've ever seen tributes have sex in the Games. Maybe they edit it out. I cross my fingers that they did, thinking of Murdoch and Dylan watching me get my freak on.

This just makes me laugh more, and Blake flings a lazy arm around me as we laugh. Our laughter eventually fades away, but there are still grins on our faces. This is the happiest I've been in the arena so far, and I try to avoid the thought that's lurking in the back of my mind.

"Love you, Ann," Blake says, chuckling. "Love you more than the ocean." It's an old saying in 4, 'love you more than the ocean.' It's one of my favorites, too. To say that you love someone more than the ocean means that you love them deeper than the ocean floor, further than the most distant horizon, stronger than any hurricane, and most of all, you love them more than you yourself love the ocean. It describes how I feel perfectly. I also ignore the fact that there's one other person in Panem that I love more than the ocean, and he's watching me right now.

I still say it back. "Love you more than the ocean," I whisper, and he kisses my forehead.

"Now let's go hunt, naughty girl," he shoves me playfully, and we walk over to our pile of supplies. We load up our backpacks full of food and medical supplies, and water of course. I still have my two axes and spear on my back, plus my knives. Blake has four spears on his back, a belt of knives around his waist, and he's carrying a trident in his left hand.

"You look deadly," I observe with a smile, and he throws an apple at me.

"Thanks. Dare you to hit this apple in midair with one of your knives."

I grin wickedly at him. We did things like this at the Academy all the time; stupid bets and dares that would eventually result in one of us getting in trouble. But it was always fun. So I tell him, "Fine. But when I stick that apple, any tribute we find is mine to kill. Deal?" He rolls his eyes.

"Not fair, but whatever. Your kill count is way higher than mine anyway. What is it, 6-2?"

"Yep," I announce proudly. Blake walks about twenty yards in front of where I'm standing and stares me down.

"Annie Cresta, are you ready?" His voice mimics Caesar Flickerman's and I have to smile. But I'm sure the smile looks feral and wild, because the cool metal in my hand is intoxicating. He nods at me, and tosses the apple high in the air. I study the trajectory of the apple and predict where it will be in a second. I let the knife fly from my hand, and the apple falls to the ground with a thud. My knife speared it perfectly through the middle. "Not fair," Blake whines, as he picks up the apples, takes the knife out, and bites into it.

"You're disgusting, Hadley," I say, and he shoves me. "Let's go for a swim."

"Which side of the river?" He asks, and I think about it. If we choose without checking for rowboats, we're going blind. I tell him as much and we run to the side of the river that faces the modern part of the city. We haven't been over here yet. There are still two rowboats parked on the riverbanks, and they aren't District 2's. "Let's go here. I bet the boy from 12 is over here," Blake guesses and I nod my head in agreement. I do want the boy from 12 dead. I wonder how he survived so long. Usually 12 is out on the first day.

I smile at Blake when he puts his trident in the sling on his back. He unsheaths a small knife, and so do I. For anyone else, crossing this river with weapons and supplies on our backs would be difficult, but not for us. We've swum around in the stormy ocean with people on our backs.

"Let's go, 4," I say to Blake, and I try to make my voice tough like some idiot "Career" tribute from 1 or 2. It comes out sounding gruff and manly, and he lets out a loud laugh.

"Alright, 4," he agrees. "You dive first. I want to watch you." I roll my eyes at him, but oblige him. I do have a beautiful dive. I bend my knees and feel the bottom of my shoes gripping the earth. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and dive into the water, my arms extended over my head. I move my legs rhythmically under the water as I blow out of my nose. Soon enough, my face breaks the surface, and the taste of fresh water on my lips feels wrong. Blake is grinning at me, and I whip my feet around, treading water. He follows the same steps that I do, but his dive looks less graceful and more powerful. When he resurfaces, we turn around and face the opposite bank. The current rocks us just a little bit downstream, but we are excellent at fighting it. "Underwater then," he suggests, and I nod. I inhale deeply, planning on not breathing until I reach the bank. I can hold my breath for almost five minutes.

We submerge ourselves under the water, and I lose myself in the motions that my body has memorized. With my arms above my head, I kick my legs and propel myself with my arms, then use my body to glide in a fluid motion, my body moving in a graceful S motion under the water. The motions are so automatic and so ingrained that I don't have to pay attention to it. It's more natural than breathing. All I focus on is the silky water between my fingertips, and how beautiful it feels to be gliding through the water like a bird shooting through the sky. I open my eyes under the water, and I see little fish swimming around. I'm at least twenty feet below the surface, and I have plenty of air. When I swim for fun, I swim violently, disturbing the fish and making them scatter everywhere. But right now, my graceful movements don't disturb the fish, who just swim around oblivious to the fact that I'm here. I still have my knife clenched in my hand, but it's useless down here. So I just reach out to the fish and grab him in my hand.

If I were above water, I would laugh. How desperately I crave fish after being away from 4. I let the fish swim away, and raise my head above the water just a fraction of an inch. I'm only yards from shore, so I duck back under and reach out with my hands. Sure enough, the bottom skims my feet a little bit and when my hands find earth, I pull myself out of the water and onto land.

As soon as I'm out, I sheath the knife and pull out my axe, waiting for Blake to resurface. I know he can't hold his breath as long as me, but he swims almost as fast. Where the hell is he?

I'm starting to panic when I see a black head of hair poke above the water, just enough to pull in some air as he front crawls. I let out a breath of air, and soon enough, he's at my side. "How was your swim?"

"Better than you can imagine," I say, and it's true. I've missed the water too much.

"I know how you feel. I don't feel normal without the ocean next to me," he replies, and his trident is in his hand already. Now, where should we look? We've washed up a little downriver, next to what looks like a bridge. Or, what used to be a bridge, as the middle is missing and has probably washed out to some sea somewhere. Where ever this river leads.

So we start out on a walk. The grass is overgrown and moss has climbed up the stone walls, but eventually we find a place with white stones as far as the eye can see. They're not random, I don't think, because they seem to be in a pattern. I don't like the feeling of this place, but I can see that we're climbing a hill, and that's good. We need high ground right now.

When we reach the top of the hill, we find an ornate house with white pillars. I look at the house, and I instantly get a bad feeling. There isn't much high ground in this arena, and I'm sure it's in high demand.

"Blake, there's—" I say, stepping towards the house, but I'm cut off by rope jerking around my ankle. I'm hoisted into the air, and I can't see where I'm dangling from.

"Annie!" Blake shouts, and I'm reminded of Finnick's Games. I'm trapped. I'm a sitting duck.

Oddly, I'm not afraid. "Just wait, Blake. We'll see who snared me soon enough." I already know who did, of course. Twelve, that little shit. Of course he's up here and of course he knows how to make snares. That little runt would be smart enough to find high ground.

Blake decides to look around, and I don't object, although much of my blood is rushing to my head. I decide to free myself from the snare, so I grab a knife out of my belt and use my core strength to pull myself up. It's not as easy as I thought it would be, but eventually I'm not upside down anymore. My knife cuts through the rope as I hear footsteps, and I saw faster. The rope snaps and I'm dropped on the ground. The breath is knocked out of me but I stand up swiftly, swinging my axe around wildly.

"Blake?" I whisper. I feel like I'm being watched, and I don't like it. "Blake? Blake, come back!" The footsteps get louder, and I walk silently in the direction of them. When I get around to the back of the house, I hear hushed voices.

"It was the girl from 4, I'm sure of it," the boy from 12 says. Who the hell is he talking to?

"But what about her boyfriend? Her huge district partner? He'll be around here somewhere, and we need to get rid of him before we kill Annie," a girl's voice guesses, and I realize that it's the girl from 6. What a cute little alliance.

"We need both of them gone, Lorry," 12 whispers, and I grit my teeth. I'm going to murder both of you, do you know that? I push my back against a wall before I turn the corner, and switch my axe from my right to my left hand. With my right, I grip a knife by the handle and peek around the corner. The girl from 6 is facing me, talking to the boy from 12, whose back is turned. The girl lifts her eyes a little bit, and they find mine. Her eyes are so dark they're black, and she has a long knife in her hand. Before she can open her mouth to warn 12, though, three prongs of a trident are sticking out of her belly, and I run to where 12 is. I slam him against the stone building, my forearm on his windpipe.

"Are you that stupid, 12? Did you really think you could kill us?" I ask, and I don't care that I'm taunting him. I'll kill him quickly. That's what matters.

"I'd be stupid to think I would have a chance," he replies. His grey eyes meet mine and his small body is shaking. He's afraid. I can smell it. "None of us did, not after you and your lover boy volunteered at the Reaping. Give my regards to District 4 when you return, Annie," he spits, and I jam my arm harder into his throat. I don't know how he's still talking. "Pawn," he chokes out, but I can see that he's still afraid. As much as he wants to make his last words count.

"I'll make good on my promise to say hello to your family when I win," I whisper, and I look into his grey eyes. I don't want to kill him. I don't want to kill him. I. Don't. Want. To. I already have the blood of six children on my hands and I don't want a seventh. I don't want it. My breaths come short and there are tears in my eyes as I look down at him, smaller and skinnier than I am. He's underfed. Probably has been his whole life. I commit his face to memory as I stare down at him, and I'm sure he's confused and afraid. Grey eyes with nice long eyelashes. Olive skin that is dotted with freckles. Wide, thin lips and a large nose. A scar above his left eyebrow. Hair darker than night. "I'm sorry," I whisper, and not a scream escapes his lips. Only a small breath leaves his dry, cracked lips as my knife reaches his heart. Like the girl from 7, I stare at him until the light leaves his eyes, and I say a silent goodbye to him.

_I'm sorry I was trained to kill. I'm sorry you never had enough to eat. I'm sorry that I had to kill you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

Ever since the girl from 7, the faces of those whom I've murdered have been haunting my dreams. The small boy from 3 that I killed with a knife stained with the blood of another dead tribute. The girl from 5. The large boy from 10. The girl from 8, who I killed simply because it was illogical to let another tribute go. Kylie from District 7's wide, defiant brown eyes staring at mine even as I stuck a knife into her heart, even after I put a knife in her back. The fear that shown in 12's eyes as I memorized him. He knew what was coming, but he didn't try to get away. He was only twelve years old.

I give myself five seconds. _Five._ I have killed seven people. _Four. _ I'm a murderer. _Three. _I look down at my hands and find that they're smeared with blood. _Two. _I will never be able to wash this blood off of me. _ One._

"Blake!" I say, and he's still waiting around the corner for me. "Weren't you afraid he'd kill me?" I ask, a smile on my face.

"No. Plus, I didn't even know you were around the other corner until you starting talking to 12. What's the deal with him anyway?" He asks, and I know he's referring to the acidic comments he shot at me before I killed him.

"On the hovercraft he was telling me that training didn't make me better than him. I told him I'd give his family my regards on my Victory Tour," I say, and thought I'm a little ashamed of it, I don't let it show. He takes my hand and pulls me away from the bodies, because the hovercraft is buzzing above us, waiting for us to move. I pull my knife out of 12's chest and Blake retrieves his trident. He shudders almost imperceptibly as he looks at the bloodied prongs.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey guys! Here's Chapter 21 :) everything belongs to Suzanne Collins! Pleaseeeee leave me a review if you like it or if you don't! I write for you guys!**

We decide to stay on the other side of the river for the night, and when the sky begins to lighten, Blake shakes me awake. I was dreaming of the first time we kissed after Finnick broke up with me. In the dream, Blake decided not to volunteer for the Games, and when I won, I came back to him. He volunteered the next year, and we shared a house on Victor's Island. The dream was so impossibly sweet and when I saw Blake's gentle face hovering over me, tears came to my eyes.

"I wish I could stay here forever," I whisper. "I would kill children every day for the rest of my life if it meant I could stay with you."

"I'll always be with you, Annie," he murmurs into my ear. When he says those words, I break down. I've cried so many times thinking about his death, but this is different. He's damaged be beyond repair. If he dies, I'll never leave the arena. Not really.

The tears roll down my cheeks and the sobs shake my body, and Blake begins to cry, too. We sit, wrapped in each other's arms, allowing the gravity of our situation to overcome us. For the first time. My heart is breaking piece by piece, falling into the river and washing out to sea somewhere. Please, God, don't take him from me. Please don't take him away. I'll do whatever you want me to do.

I think of Finnick. He doesn't want me to die in here; he doesn't want me to sacrifice myself for Blake. But Finnick's life will go on. He'll love again. He has Mags, he has Cashmere. He'll get over my death, and eventually he'll be fine. I think that I'll never see his green eyes again, and a whole new wave of sobs take my body, but they don't compare to the ones inspired by Blake. If he dies, I will never get over it. I will be wishing for death every day for the rest of my life.

Blake cries, and every part of me that I thought was vicious and confident breaks down and explodes.

I don't know how long we sit there, entrapped in our own grief, but it's past dawn when the sobs finally subside and we look at each other. I look into his blue eyes and I see that the resolve behind them has hardened. I don't want him to die. He doesn't want me to die. With both Finnick and Blake rooting against my goal, the odds feel insurmountable. But that doesn't mean I won't try.

I take his hand and we walk, emotionlessly, to the river, where we dive in and swim back to our island. I'm not fully recovered from earlier, so my shock when I see a figure trapped in one of our nets is palpable. It's the fourth day of the arena, and we are so close to the end. I push the thought out of my mind as I walk up to the net.

"Ah, 2. Where's your little partner?" I ask her, and even though I liked her, I hate her now. My heart is screaming for her blood.

"Hunting you," she spits. "I'll scream right now and he'll find you. He'll cut your pretty little head off."

"Shut up," Blake growls, and the girl's eyes widen. She doesn't want to die, I know.

"Blake, how about we cut her down?" I ask, and my voice is filled with bloodlust. "I want a fight today." Blake looks at me hesitantly, because he doesn't want me to take risks when I could kill her easily from here. But I know I'm more skilled than this girl, and so does he. He climbs up on a branch and cuts the net down. Instantly, I see that the girl from 2 walking with a limp. I roll my eyes. This will be easy.

She doesn't have her spear. She has a short sword, and I sheath my knife, taking out my axe. I move around her, studying her form. She protects her ribs well, I see, but her footwork is shoddy. I smile at her, and she glares at me. She swings at me with the sword, and I duck. I flip the axe in my hand, and jab her in the stomach with the handle. She exhales and backs up a few steps. I glance behind me to see Blake leaning against a tree casually, watching our fight. I block a punch from 2, and take a swing with my axe. She barely gets out of the way, and I see her back up and try to throw a knife at me. I laugh, shoulder rolling out of the way. The knife whizzes into the distance, and I pull out a knife and throw it at her leg. She screams in pain, and I sneak up behind her, kicking her down. She tries to crawl away, but I stab her hands into the ground so she's stuck.

"Any last words?" I ask. She whimpers and tries to move her body. She screams when she tries to move her hands. "I'll take that as a no," I say, my voice low and deadly. I slam my axe into her back, and when I try to pull it out, I see that it's stuck in the ground underneath her. Her cannon goes off and I turn to Blake. "Can you help me get the axe out, please?" My voice is still filled with venom, and I feel like a psychopath. I stabbed her hands into the ground so she couldn't move. What kind of monster am I?

Blake still smiles at me like I'm still the same girl he fell in love with, though. I give him a weak smile, and take my knives out of her body. I wipe them on my pant legs and regain my composure. How many have I killed now?

Eight. I've killed eight people. But I know it's necessary. Either they die, or Blake dies. Either I kill them, or they kill me. I can't let either of them happen.

Blake and I walk to the riverbank and just sit there. I feel drained. I haven't slept much since we entered the arena, but I almost don't want sleep to find me. I want to stay awake, with Blake, until one of us is pulled from this place. I look over at him, and he looks out at the river. I look at his profile and thank whatever made this universe for him. For his soul, for his goodness and kindness, for his bravery, for his selflessness, for the person he is.

"I've killed eight people," I whisper, and he glances over at me. His eyes are serious as he studies me. "Eight, Blake. It's too many."

"I've killed people, too, Annie. You have to kill people to win," he says, trying to console me. "I know who you are. Annie Cresta is tough, but sometimes kind, and deadly smart. She's got this tough exterior, but when you strip it away, you find a beautiful soul underneath it all. Annie Cresta is the best person I've ever known, no matter how many people she's killed." The words are soft and sweet and I look up at him. His eyes are glowing, and they don't leave mine. "I just want to thank you for everything you've given me over the years. You were the best friend I ever had and loving you saved me. I just want to tell you in case I don't have the time to later."

"You'll be able to tell the nation after you win," I whisper. He shakes his head, and the motion is desperate.

"No, Annie. I just want my words to reach your heart and never leave you. No matter what happens in here, I want you to know how amazing you are. I want you to know that I've always loved you no matter what."

"Blake," I begin. "I'm not worth it. I didn't even realize I loved you until recently."

"I don't care," he says heatedly. "Don't you understand that I don't care? Every day I've spent with you since we were nine has been a gift. Every day I get with you until I die is a gift! I wake up just wanting to see your smile, wanting to hear your voice, wanting to know what's inside that mind of yours! It doesn't have anything to do with you reciprocating my feelings, because I would've loved you until the day I died anyways, regardless of the Games and how you felt about me!" The words are loud and desperate, and I stifle them with a kiss. I try to tell him through the kiss how much I love him, how thankful I am for him, and how badly I wish we could leave together. I don't want to cry any more, even though I'm positive the Capitol loves it. I'm sure they can't get enough of our love story, but I don't care. It's ours, not theirs.

"I love you, Blake," I say. "I will always love you, until the day that I die." He looks into my eyes, and I feel the familiar sensation of drowning. I almost drowned once, when I was little. It wasn't nearly as pleasant as looking into Blake's eyes. When I die, I want his eyes to be the last thing I see.

His eyes shift down to my arm, and his eyebrows furrow. I glance down and see the seashell bracelet his little sister gave to me as a token. I redden.

"Did Tallie give this to you?" He asks, touching it with his fingers. I nod, and his eyes look a little teary. "I don't know how I didn't notice it before."

"I figured since I didn't have a token, I could take it. It reminds me of you."

"Annie, I love you," he murmurs, and the moment is heavy with emotion. I take the bracelet off and hand it to him, but he shakes his head. "It's yours. Plus it would make me look a little girly, don't you think?" I laugh at his joke, but only for a moment, because the ground begins to shake.

"Shit!" I yell. I hear Blake swearing, too, and I grab his hand, slamming my axe into the ground. His hand is gripping mine like a vice. This earthquake isn't as short as the last one, lasting for at least two hours. As far as I knew, natural earthquakes didn't last this long. The Gamemakers must be trying to achieve something. When the shaking subsides, I look at Blake, and his eyes are wide with fear. The expression looks foreign on his face, and I wonder what's causing it. I spin around and see nothing. "Blake, what's wrong?" I ask urgently.

"These Games will be over soon," he replies ominously. He points at the dam as I had done a couple days before, and the crack that formed after the first quake now has water spurting out of it. Shit.

"They're going to flood the arena," I whisper quietly so the cameras don't catch it. "They want Four to win this year." Blake nods, but there is still fear in his eyes. "Why are you afraid?"

"Annie, who are the only tributes who can swim?" He asks.

"Us," I reply, and I wonder what he's getting at. Obviously we're the only ones.

"They're saving us for the finale," he whispers. It all comes together. They want us to be the final two, and this terrifies me. Blake and I, treading water for days and days, forced into killing each other by the Capitol. They must not realize that it'll never happen. I'm afraid for the first time since we entered the arena.

I hear a large rumble and my head snaps to the right, looking across the river. The white tower, which served as a compass in this arena, has a wide crack running down the wide of it. The tower begins to shake, and soon comes falling down, shaking the arena as it hits the ground with a thunderous roar.

Nothing else happens, so we walk back to camp and curl up underneath the tent. We both fall asleep, unconcerned about any tribute that might walk into our camp. Nobody would fuck with the both of us. One on one, maybe, but not two on one. We are too formidable. I fall asleep quickly, my head lying on Blake's chest, hand curled tightly around a knife.

When I wake up, it's raining. I reach my hand out of the tent and find that the water falling down on us is warm rain. I shake Blake awake.

"It's raining!" I exclaim, and he laughs. "I feel dirty. Do we have soap anywhere in our supplies?" I ask, and he gets up and crawls from the tent. I hear him rummaging around in our supply pile.

"Yes!" He shouts, and I laugh under my breath. Who knew this person could bring me so much joy? He pokes his head inside the tent, and laughing, drags me out by the hand. I see a bottle of shampoo and a bottle of conditioner laying on the ground, and I laugh, too.

"We can finally get clean!" I shout, and I know we're being childish, but I don't really care.

"And we can give Panem another show!" He yells at the sky, and I push him over. I kiss him on the lips, and strip down. I lay my clothes out under the tent I made and Blake does the same. We'll just have to be a little naked for the time being. I let him shampoo my hair and he massages my scalp with his hands. After I do the same, we let the heavy rain wash the soap out of our hair and then he puts conditioner in mine, letting the rain wash it out, making my hair silky smooth and soft again. I lather his body up with soap at the same time he does mine. I lean up and kiss him, trying to ignore his nudity, and he wraps his arms around me, kissing me back fiercely. Like plenty of other moments in the arena, I'm sure the cameras are on us right now. I laugh and feel the slip of his nose against mine and we let the rain soak our bodies, and his eyes never leave mine. Not even when the roar of thunder shakes the ground beneath our feet.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 ya'll! I just wanted to give a huge shout out to the six people who have reviewed this story, the two who have favorited it, and the three who have followed it :) Every time someone reviews, favorites, or follows, I feel more inspired to keep writing this story. I'm so glad to hear that you like it, and I appreciate any comments you have! Thank you so much for reading! Also, I feel like I should give fair warning-Blake doesn't die in this chapter, but the time is drawing nigh! I have no idea how I'll write his death, because I'm so emotionally attached to his character. As you can probably tell, I've been dreading it and stalling :( I know it's necessary, and obviously I want her to end up with Finnick, but I feel that a broken heart has to be necessary for her to fully appreciate Finnick. That being said, I've grown to love his character and I'll probably sob the entire time I write his chapter. If any of you have suggestions regarding how to write his death, PLEASE share! Thank you to everyone who reads this story, I love you all! Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

"Why the hell won't it stop raining?" I ask Blake, my teeth chattering. We've been huddled up in a tent for a day now, and the rain hasn't let up one bit. It's late afternoon and it's the sixth day we've been in the arena.

"They're probably trying isolate some sort of fight in one of the buildings. We're safe here, for the time being," he murmurs from under the blanket. I'm thankful that we stole everything from the Cornucopia, otherwise we'd be freezing cold. The rain turned from warm to freezing pretty quickly, and Blake and I decided to ditch our little makeshift tent for a real one we found in our supplies. We constructed it while our clothes were drying, and it was a wonderful idea, mostly because it's made out of a material that reflects body heat. I don't particularly care if anyone finds us on the island, though I highly doubt anyone will. No one will be walking around in this. There haven't been any deaths since I killed the girl from 2, and I'm not sure whether I'm relieved or annoyed. I've killed eight tributes, a third of the playing field. Blake and the boy from 2 have killed three each, and the boy from 7 has killed one.

I'm curled up against Blake's side, and he's stroking my hair. We're both incredibly bored, so we begin a game of what he calls 'Truth.' We ask each other questions and we have to tell the truth. It sounded pretty simple, until we actually started playing.

"Who was your first kiss?"

"I don't want to tell you that, you'll get mad," I tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"That's the point of the game, Annie. You have to tell."

"Fine. Michael Wavely," I say, and I find myself blushing as I say it. Blake's mouth forms a perfect O. "Before you ask, I'll just tell you. I never liked Michael other than as a friend," I laugh to myself as I say it, because I'm sure Michael is flushed with embarrassment back in 4. "We were sitting at the beach once after school and he asked me if anyone had ever kissed me. I said no, and he gave me a peck on the lips. Michael was like, 'Annie, I like you. Will you be my girlfriend?'" Blake laughs a deep laugh that sounds like thunder.

"What did you say?"

"I said, 'Michael, no offense, but you fight like a girl. Why would I want a boyfriend that I can beat up all the time?'" I mimic my little girl voice, which was higher in pitch than my voice now. "I might've been eleven or so. He wouldn't talk to me for a couple weeks after that."

"She's a heartbreaker, Michael!" Blake calls to no one in particular, and I know he'll be watching this at home. I smile at the thought while Blake just pulls me closer to him and kisses my cheek. "Your turn."

"Okay. Umm, who did you hate in school?" I ask, and I realize I really don't know the answer. Blake's always been so kind that I never considered that he wouldn't like anyone.

"Nala," he answers instantly.

"The girl who picked on me all the time?" I ask, my eyebrows raised.

"Yes. She was so mean to you. I'd be lying if I said I didn't beat her up once or twice," he says, and this comment would be odd coming from a non-Career district. But it fits him perfectly, because our lives growing up were centered around violence and honing our skills to kill. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who didn't like you, except her. And she was so mean to you that I couldn't help but hate her. She was probably jealous of you. Look at us now! In the Games, bringing honor to District 4, and she's probably at home fishing or something. Sucks to be her," he says, and I smile. He doesn't say things like this too often, because he's such a kind person. But Blake has always been hyper protective of me, and if anyone even makes a comment about my hair looking bad, he'll hate them forever. I don't need protecting, but it makes me smile that Blake has always had my back. "Anyways, who was the best kisser?"

"You," I answer honestly. I can't really mention Finnick in here, because it would cause uproar in the Capitol. But he and Blake are evenly matched, so it's a true enough answer. "How many girls have you slept with?"

"Just one," he says, and he's looking right into my eyes.

"Liar," I retort. There's no way I'm the only girl Blake's slept with. No way in hell. He had plenty of admirers at the Academy, even with Finnick around all the time. I caught him kissing several of them on the beach. My cheeks flush in anger as I remember it. I was so stupid for not realizing his feelings for me.

"I swear. You're the only one," he says gently. He lifts my face up to his, fingers on my cheek as he whispers, "You've always been the only one." I can practically hear the women in the Capitol crying over our romance. But I don't waste more than a second thinking about them. Blake is right in front of me, eyes pleading with me to believe him.

"You too," I say back. He leans down and kisses me. His lips are soft and gentle, and he smells like rain. I smile against his lips as he brushes a piece of hair from my face. My eyes lift to meet his and I commit every detail of this moment to memory. I've had so many good moments in my life, but this one is the best. I never want to forget how I feel right now, with Blake right in front of me telling me that I'm the only one. We stay like this for a few minutes, staring into each other's eyes, having silent conversations and sharing memories, remembering all of our favorite moments between sky blue and sea green eyes. I smile at him gently and he smiles back.

"It seems I've really made you into a softie, Ann," he whispers. "You've always been so tough and lethal. Now look at you, smiling at me and kissing me. I've cracked you," he says, and I laugh throatily.

"You've brought me to my knees, Hadley," I whisper back, touching my nose against his. He laughs and tightens his arms around me.

"How many people have you slept with?"

"Too many to count," I say arrogantly, with a wave of my hands. "I had so many admirers it would be cruel of me to deny them." He laughs again, but his eyes are serious. He knows I'm lying, of course. I'm sure all of Panem knows I'm lying, regardless of how I presented myself in my interview. "Just two," I answer solemnly. He smiles at me.

"Me and Flint?" He asks, and I only furrow my eyebrows in confusion for a moment. Blake, observant as he is, knows he can't mention Finnick here. He doesn't even know about Finnick's forced prostitution, but he's keen enough to pick up on it. Flint, of course, is imaginary seeing as his name comes from District 2, not 4.

"Yes, Flint. How did you know about that?" I ask, keeping up the charade. "It was only once."

"I heard it through the grapevine."

"Ah," I say dispassionately. We go on like this for hours, and it never gets boring. I find myself eager to know about Blake's life, and eventually our questions progress from person to trivial details about the other person.

"What's your favorite color?" He asks, and I laugh at the stupid question.

"Blue, obviously. Blue is everyone in District 4's favorite color," I say.

"Mine is the color of your eyes. Caught somewhere between blue and green, always in limbo. My favorite color in the world," he replies gently, and a small smile plays on his lips. "Although coral is nice too," he says much more casually, and the shift in tone makes me giggle.

"If only we had a bottle of rum in this little tent and we'd be set. It would be like a regular old day at the beach," I remark. He opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by a small beeping sound from outside the tent. He crawl over to the entrance, unzipping it and poking his upper body outside. He comes back in with a wide grin on his face. "You've got to be kidding me." In his hands is a massive bottle of rum with a smaller bottle of coconut juice.

I can't help but notice that this is exactly what Finnick and I drank on his boat the first night we slept together. I push the emotions down, even though I know Finnick did this intentionally. I clear my throat and remind myself that the nation is watching.

"There has to be a rule against this," Blake remarks, an awed expression on his face. "We must be totally safe over here if they're letting us get drunk in the arena. Thank you," he says, and I know it's addressed to the cameras in the tent, to the sponsors that sent us this. They must really be enjoying Blake and I's banter, and we must really have a lot of sponsors.

"Well, whatever. I'll never say no to a good bottle of rum," I joke, and I take a giant swig from the bottle, passing it to Blake. I drink a little coconut juice to offset the burning in my throat. When half the bottle is gone, Blake and I set it down carefully. I'm giggling obnoxiously, and Blake's words run together.

"Do you love me, Blake?" I ask, and my words are a little slippery.

"Annie, don't even start with me," he slurs, and plants a slobbery kiss on my mouth. I giggle loudly, and push him away. "I love you so much, baby, I could just die," he laughs and I join him, because what are we to do but laugh about our situation and enjoy each other while it lasts?

"Tell me stories," I whine, and he smiles at me a little too widely. I grin back at him and he tries to sit up, only to lose his balance and fall back down again.

"Remember when you beat up that kid?" He asks, laughing. I want to roll my eyes at him but I can't because he is so handsome and I am too in love with him.

"I beat up lots of kids, Blakey," I giggle, hiccupping.

"The really mean one. I can't remember his name…Nose or Null or something dumb like that."

"Noel," I correct, and his face lights up when I say it.

"That's the one, Banannie! Anyways, this little Null kid was so mean to the little kids at 'school'" I can pretty much hear the verbal quotation marks around the word 'school,' so I giggle and nod. "He was picking on some little twelve year old and the little guy was crying. Null—"

"Noel," I correct him and he waves my comment away with his hand.

"Whatever. I like Null better. Anyways, Null punched the little kid in the face, and you showed up out of nowhere, yelling at him. You told him he was a piece of shit or something like that. A very Annie thing to call someone," he laughs, and his words start to come faster, slurring more and more. "You were like, 'What kinda piece of shit picks on little kids?' and you were just screaming at him. Null said that the little kid was gay or something and you yelled 'Who fucking cares? At least he isn't a little asshole like you!'" At this, I start to laugh, because I remember that day very well. I was sixteen or so, and I didn't like bullies. I look at Blake's smiling face and cuddle up to him, overcome with love for him. "I was 'bout to say something to him myself, but you beat me to it, you little shit. He tried to take a swing at you, but you beat him to a pulp and told him that only cowards pick on children. Then when he showed up to school a few days later, he was all bruised and everyone laughed at him. He asked you on a date that day, didn't he?" Drunk Blake asks. I giggle at the memory because he really did ask me on a date.

"I told him to shove it unless he wanted me to beat him up again." I laugh, and Blake joins in with me. "Why do you remember that day in particular?"

"I decided that day that I would marry you someday," and even though he's drunk, the words are serious. My face grows solemn as I look at him, my vision blurred by the drink.

"I would marry you, Blake," I whisper to him. The sentence comes out so slurred together that I can barely understand them. Blake seems to though, and he reaches out and touches where my heart is. I know what he's trying to say. We'll be together forever in there; I'll be married to you in your heart. I smile at him, and I wish for the hundredth time that he didn't volunteer. I'm sure he wishes that, too, but he couldn't resist the glory of the Games any more than I could.

"I love you," he says, and the drunken tone of voice is back. I try to forget my depressing train of thought as I look into his eyes. His eyes are the one thing that has kept me sane through the Games. I've become a killer and he still loves me all the same. My murders have broken me down inside, even if I don't let it show.

The blue eyes that I know so well are studying me, reading my thoughts, and I surrender myself to them. I wonder what he sees in the cloudy, drunken green of mine. He smiles at me, breaking the tension. "So tell me, Banannie, what's your deepest, darkest secret?" He whispers conspiratorially to me and a loud laugh bubbles out of my mouth.

"You know all my secrets, Blakey," I sing, and he rolls his eyes. "Seriously, you know like everything about me."

"Fine, you party pooper. Tell me the one time you've been scared in your life, if there ever was a time," he requests, and I don't have to think for very long about it.

"Right now," I answer. He furrows his brow like he's asking me why. "I'm afraid of what tomorrow will bring. I'm afraid of what I'll become if I lose you. I'm afraid that this will be our last moment together. I'm afraid because I love you too much." The words that drop out of my mouth show indication that I'm drunk, except for that I would never admit to being afraid while I was sober. Not a chance in hell. I'm too proud for that.

Blake is about to open his mouth to respond to me when the cannon goes off. We both bolt upright, instantly sobered up. I look at Blake, and I know he's thinking the same thing I am. Please let it be District 7. We wrap ourselves in a plastic sheet and walk outside. Because it's nighttime, the Anthem of Panem will be playing soon and we'll be able to see who died. The hovercraft that goes to pick up the body is far north of here, somewhere in the city. Perhaps 7 and 11 fought each other. I would much rather have 7 dead, though. At least we were right about the rain. They were using it to drive two tributes together. As soon as the hovercraft leaves with the body, the torrential downpour lightens to a drizzle, and we lift the plastic sheet from our heads. We wait for ten minutes and then Anthem begins to play. I'm hoping against all hope that District 7 is dead, so I can stop stressing about him so much.

But it isn't. It's the boy from 5. We're out of luck for the time being. I look at Blake, whose expression has hardened.

"We'll both sleep tonight, then we'll go hunting tomorrow," he says, but I have a bad feeling about it. I want to tell him that we should stay here tomorrow instead of going hunting, but I don't have any logic to back it up. Blake isn't someone to buy into gut feelings and intuition. He needs hard facts and logic. I don't have that. So I nod, trying to ignore the dread that's building inside of my heart.

**Guuuyyyssss I really need help with the next chapter! I can't decide whether I want 2 or 7 to kill Blake :( I know I need two tributes two die in the flood, and I want Annie to kill either 2 or 7. But so far, I only have the boy from 2, Annie, Blake, the boy from 7, and the boy from 11 still alive. I'm really not sure how to do his death and I need help desperately. So, please, if you have any thoughts or suggestions about how to write his death, PLLEEEASSSEEE leave me a review or PM me. I write this story for you guys, so it's only fair that I turn to ya'll when I'm in need :) One reviewer has already left a suggestion, which I'm definitely going to write into the story, but I need more input! Thank you all for reading!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Here's a short little chapter of Blake and Annie saying their goodbyes to each other. You know what's coming in the next chapter, and I'm already an emotional wreck. The next chapter will be coming up very, very soon. Please, if anyone has suggestions for how to write it, let me know! I've already gotten a few really, really great suggestions from my readers, so the next chapter is a team effort. Thank you all! Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

We leave all of our supplies on the island when we take off the next day, taking only a backpack each and our weapons. If I'm being honest with myself, I'm terrified. Something is telling me that this is a bad idea, that one of us will die, but maybe I'm being paranoid. The playing field has gotten so slim that I'm sure the Gamemakers will end this soon. I know they'll flood the arena. I just know it. Every Games, there's a big finale that either wipes out tributes or forces them into a fight. The dam is their end game this year. If it doesn't happen today, it'll happen tomorrow. With that thought fresh in my mind, I look at Blake.

"Blake, they're going to end this soon, so I just wanted to tell you that no matter what happens, I'll love you until the day I die. If that day is today, or tomorrow, or twenty years from now, I just want you to know. You're the best person I've ever known and I'll never forget you, whether I live or die. I love you more than you'll ever know," I look down at my feet because tears are in my eyes and I don't want him to see. He takes my chin and lifts my face up, forcing me to look at him.

"If I die today, know that I will never leave you. Every beat of my heart has been for you and if I live, every beat of my heart for the rest of my life will be for you. Everything I've ever done has been for you. I love you, Annie," he says, and a lone tear drips down his face. I wipe it away and try to look composed, but I can't. "I'll always remember the way you looked diving into the water, the look in your eyes when you threw a knife, how determined you've always been. How everytime I see you, you're silently holding my universe together. That's all you've ever done, Annie. With every move you made, every look you've given me, every word you've said, you've kept the world turning." When his eyes bore into mine, all I see is the sea, neverending, stretching out to a world beyond that we don't know. Iridescent and kind and good, revealing the most perfect soul I've ever had the experience of seeing.

So I lean my forehead against his, and we're silent for a moment. After a while, I whisper, "You and me, Blake. It's you and me forever." I let a tear come out of my eye, and I don't bother to brush it away. I told Caesar Flickerman that he would have to watch and see if it was true love. Now they know. Everyone knows. Most of all, I know. This is the purest love I could ever have, and I'm nothing but grateful for the person standing in front of me, especially knowing that one of us could be dead soon.

"It's always been you, Annie. Every day of my life, even before I knew you. It's been you."


	24. Chapter 24

**I didn't want to put the flood in this chapter, as I wanted this one to be all about his death. I sobbed while I wrote this, and I'm so depressed that I fell in love with a character that I knew I had to kill. :( Anyways, here it is! Annie's descent into madness! i hope you all like it and I hope, to the people that helped me out with the ideas for this, that you know how appreciated you are.**

We are wandering through the city, as we have been all day. The heat of the day is almost unbearable, and we have to stop every five minutes for water breaks. It's almost the end, I can feel it.

Blake and I decide to separate to try and sweep a few blocks and check for tributes. I don't want to, I really don't. But Blake gives me a kiss on the forehead and tells me that everything is going to be okay. I try to brush away the worry plaguing my heart but I can't. There's nothing I can do about the feeling in my gut that this is the end of everything.

I'm searching through buildings quickly, using my senses honed by the Academy to listen for tributes. So far, I hear absolutely nothing. I'm on the third floor of a building north of the Cornucopia when I hear a door slam below me. Shit.

I sprint to the nearest stairwell and run down the flights of stairs, breathless. But I don't stop. I can't stop. Someone has been tracking Blake and me, and they know we're separated. When I run out of the building, I look left and right but I see no one.

"Fuck!" I scream, and I can't decide which way to go. I think Blake is a few blocks to my left, but I can't be sure. So I take off in that direction, hoping against all hope that I will run into him before anything bad happens. I'm desperately combing through the buildings, hoping that he's safe, hoping that he's hidden, hoping that he'll be alive when I find him.

I take a fast drink of water and feel a small tremor shake the earth, but it's nothing close to the earthquakes that have happened in the past few days. When I look up at the dam, more water than ever is spurting out of the crack and I know, I just know that this is the end. Everything is going to end today.

I wish I could get down to the river and see how high it's gotten, but I'm too far and I don't have Blake with me. I've decided to climb to the top of a building to see where he is when I hear a bloodcurtling shriek. My heart tears and I scream back, because I would recognize that scream anywhere.

"BLAKE! BLAKE!" I scream, running through the streets in the direction I heard the scream coming from. I'm sobbing hysterically and screaming his name, not caring if anyone finds me. Because if Blake dies, I'll be begging for death right next to his body. I'll be begging for death every moment for the rest of my life.

"ANNIE!" I hear him scream, and I'm not far now. "ANN—" and the cannon booms as I turn the corner into the street.

And I see him.

I see the boy's body, so toned and so muscular and so powerful, laying motionless on the ground. I see the trident in his hand, held tight by the grip he didn't release, even in death. I see the arms that held me tight at night, I see the arms that never let me go, I see the arms that have beaten me to a pulp before, I see the arms that were so gentle and so kind. I see the arms that were my refuge from the world. I see his district token around his wrist that I never noticed before. A shell on a strand of thin, thin rope. A shell the color of my eyes.

Most of all, I see his head. His head laying on the ground near my feet, blood spattering the gray pavement. They say the Desensitizing Room prepares you for the Games, but they were wrong. Because they didn't show the severed head of the person I loved most in the world, they didn't show the blue, iridescent, ocean eyes that told me he loved me even when he was silent. They didn't show the eyes that spoke to my soul staring lifeless into the distance. They didn't show his lips, so soft and so inviting, still parted, screaming my name. They didn't show the boy that I would to give my life for laying dead on the ground, laying motionless and still, vacant and gone and stolen from me forever.

Someone is screaming, but I don't know who it is. I can't take my eyes off of the body in front of me, I can't take my eyes from the boy that has left me too soon, too soon, too soon. I don't tear my eyes from the person who told me that they wanted to marry me. I don't tear my eyes from the person who would give his life for me.

"Blake, no, please Blake please come back," I'm sobbing, and I didn't realize I kneeled down to his severed head. "You can't leave me like this Blake, you can't leave me here. Please, God, take me and bring him back. Please don't take him, please," I'm sobbing, and I'm pounding my fist into the pavement. I'm a human that has turned into an animal, a human that is broken and damaged and gone. I am vacant, disappeared like the light from Blake's eyes, taken from the world just as he was stolen away from me.

When I look up, I see it. There is a monster in front of me with black eyes and fangs and it is telling me that it's going to rip my body to shreds. The monster is telling me that I am his, his, his, and no one else's. When I look down at Blake, he is telling me to kill it. Kill it, Annie. Kill it. It's not a human. It's a monster.

I run at the beast. It gives me a smile telling me that it's excited I'm running to him, it's excited to rip me limb from limb the same way the monster tore the boy's head from his body, the same way it stole Blake's life it would steal mine. It doesn't realize that my life is already over. There is nothing left for me to lose.

When I run at the beast, it falls to the ground and I want to hear its screams. I want to hear its screams mixing with mine and blending with Blake's and joining in with the chorus of all of the children's scream, all of the children whose lives we took. But no matter how badly I ache for its blood, all I see is darkness. I hear the sounds of a struggle, but I don't' see anything. I don't feel anything. All I can feel is the pressure on my chest that materialized when I saw Blake's head rolling on the ground. I see blackness. Perhaps it's better this way. Perhaps it's better if I can't look over and see the boy, who I loved, and his head, motionless and still on the ground.

But when I scramble to my feet, and my axe falls on it, I see blood and fingers and toes and it screams and I smile at it ferally.

"For Blake, for Blake, for Blake!" I scream as I cut its fingers, its toes, its hands, its feet, its arms, its legs from its body. Its screams are the most beautiful sound I've ever heard in my life and I want to hear more. But when I look down at the beast, I only see the boy who I loved, his head cut from his body, his mouth still screaming my name, his eyes still telling me that he loved me, and I pray for the blackness to come again. So when I let the axe fall, I let it fall on its neck, and I cherish the feeling of the beast's blood spurting on my neck. I swing down again, because it isn't dead yet and I want it to be dead, dead, dead, in the ground, buried, never to breathe again, because maybe if it's dead Blake will come back to me. Maybe Blake will find me again in this dreamland and take me away to the stars, where we can float on stardust and dance on the light of other galaxies and fly away to the rest of the universe, leaving everything else behind. He will find me while I am stuck in this hell, this hell with a river and an island and a white tower and a gray dam towering over us, watching over us, making sure the rest of our lives are hell on earth. He will find me and take me from this hell and bring me to the ocean where we will submerge ourselves under the waves and sink, sink, sink until we find the oblivion we are looking for.

His name is the last thing I scream before I fall into the abyss, dreaming of stars and oceans and the rest of the universe and the boy with the blue eyes that told me that it was always me.


	25. Chapter 25

**Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins, even the tears I cried when I wrote this. Maybe I'm being dramatic.**

**_UPDATE_: I received a review telling me that Annie's descent into madness didn't feel quite right. Does anyone else feel this way? If more readers feel that it doesn't feel right, I will definitely change some of it so it suits you all better. I really like the way I'm writing it, but this story is for you all, so if you don't like it, I'll nix it. My reviewer (by the way, I appreciate the constructive criticism LOADS :D) said that she felt that Annie was too strong a character and that's why it felt wrong. Do you agree? Let me know!**

**To Moriah98_,_ my reviewer, if you see this: Thank you for the review! I wish you would've created an account so I could message you and get your input on how to improve Annie's going insane, but since you're a guest, I can't :( I really hope you end up reading this so I can grab some suggestions from you on another review! Your criticism is always always always welcome! :)**

**To Cooper, another guest reviewer:**** I'm going to do more than just the Victory Tour! This story will likely go past Mockingjay. If I end it before then, I'll definitely write a sequel. Regardless of a sequel or no sequel, this story will go for much much longer. Thank you for reading and for your encouragement :)**

_It's always been you, Annie. _

_Just know that no matter what happens, I love you._

_Annie, please don't leave me, I love you too much._

_Annie Cresta is the best person I've ever known._

_You've always been the only one._

_Mine is the color of your eyes._

_I decided that I would marry you someday._

_You and me, Cresta._

His words bounce around in my head, haunting me, taunting me, stabbing me, burning me alive.

_I've been in love with you since I was fourteen. You and me, Cresta._

"Blake," I choke out, sobbing. "Blake, why did you leave me?" It's almost as if I can hear his voice. _Annie, I would die for you. _"No, please, take me instead. I don't want to live without you." _You can do it, Annie. You promised you would win. _"I don't want to win anymore, not without you, not without you, not without you!" I'm screaming, screaming, screaming until I can't scream anymore and I still sob and cry and tear at my skin with my nails, still try and rip the hair from my head, because he's not here, he's not here, he'll never be here again. I'll never see his blue eyes again, I'll never feel the slip of his nose against mine, I'll never hear his voice again, I'll never feel the pressure of his lips against mine as long as I live. "Why did you leave me, Blake?" I whisper, and the words are almost inaudible.

Even when I see a monster in front of me with an axe in his hand, I still don't stop crying for Blake. _Annie, you need to run. Run. Run. Run! _Blake yells at me and I cover my ears, because I don't want to run. Maybe I should let it kill me so I don't have to live with his anymore, so I don't have to suffocate under all of the words he ever said to me. _Annie, you promised me you would win. You promised._ "I can't do this without you, Blake."

_I'll always be with you. _With some of his last words to me echoing in the chambers of my empty heart, I get up and I run. I don't know where I am, I don't know what to do except run. I don't know where my weapons are, but I don't want them anymore. I don't want anything ever again.

So I run. I run through every street of hell, I run past where the white tower was, the place where Blake looked at me and I felt sure I could never love again, I run by the river he dived into, where he looked so strong and powerful, I run by the island where we last made love. I run by the island where I decided I would give my life for his.

And. I. Can't. Take. It. Everything in my hell looks like him, feels like him, smells like him, makes me ache for him. And he's not here. He'll never be here again. I fall down on the pavement. I give up. I don't want anything ever again. I want to die.

"Let me die! Let me die!" I scream at the sky, I scream at the monsters that threw me in hell with the person I loved the most. "KILL ME!" I scream, sounding more animal than human. "Please," I choke out, sobbing until my body is shuddering and I'm wishing for his face, wishing for his touch, wishing for his smile.

_On my worst days, all I have to do is remember the way you laughed, the way you smiled, and I'm better._

"Please, make it stop. Please, Blake, make it stop. I just want to be with you again," I tell him, and he smiles at me in my imagination.

_I'll always be with you, Annie. You'll see me in your dreams, you'll see me everywhere. I'll always be watching you, missing you, and loving you. I'll always love you. _He says it with a smile on his face, not a trace of sadness. His head is still attached to his body and his blue eyes speak to my soul. _I love you, Annie. Please survive, please live for me. It's the greatest gift you could ever give me._

_"Alright, Annie. Here we go," my father coos at me gently. "Into the water you go." I smile up at my father, eyes alight with adoration. "Time to swim, Annie."_

_When my feet touch the water, even though I just learned to walk, they start to move effortlessly. I giggle, padding my legs. This feels better than walking. It feels like flying._

When the water rushes over me, my instincts take over. The wave of water is powerful, but I don't care. My body belongs to the water. I see Blake when I'm under. He's smiling at me.

_I love when you swim, Annie. You look like a mermaid._

I want to open my mouth and talk to him, but I can't. I'll die if I do. So I kick my legs so I can reach the surface, and when I do, I inhale deeply. I laugh, but it's a wild laugh. It's an insane laugh. I do every stroke I can think of. Butterfly, backstroke, front crawl, breaststroke. All the while, I'm laughing and splashing Blake with the water.

"Do you remember all the times we went swimming, Blake? I wish we could be back in District 4." _You will be soon enough, Ann. _I frown. "Why won't you be with me?" I ask, and he just smiles at me. _I will be. Watching over you, loving you every second._

I hear a cannon in the distance, but I don't care. I'm staring at Blake, and every part of me is screaming, wishing for there to be a riptide somewhere in this hell, wishing it could drag me under, wishing it could take me to Blake and the bottom of the ocean and the furthest star.

Blake disappears, and instead I see a boy with dark brown skin, trying desperately to stay afloat.

"Why are you here? What happened to Blake?" I ask him, and he is panting. But he chokes out the words.

"Annie, he's dead," the boy says and I scream at him.

"No he's not! He's not dead!"

"Annie, he is dead," the boy repeats.

"How do you know my name?" I ask.

"I just do. Please tell my family that I'm sorry," he pants, before he stops kicking and goes under. It's another minute before I hear a boom, and trumpets.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of the 70th Annual Hunger Games, Annie Cresta!"


	26. Chapter 26

**Hi guys! Just a reminder, if you all think I'm writing Annie's insanity in a way that you feel isn't right or you have suggestions on how to make it better, please shoot me a review or a message and I'll do some editing :)**

**Moriah98:**** Is this any better for you? Let me know! Also, let me know if you have any suggestions to make the previous two chapters any better!**

**Thank you all for reading, I appreciate you! Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

_Stay calm, Annie. _ His voice is sweet like honey and I smile up at him despite my fear. There are people in white coats all around me and I'm afraid they'll try to kill him.

"I'm calm. Just stay with me," I tell him, and he smiles at me in the good, pure way that he always does.

"Annie!" I hear someone shout and I look around for the voice. _Annie, don't be silly. You know who is talking to you._

"Who is it then?" I ask Blake and he just shakes his head at me. _It's Finnick._ When he says Finnick's name, I feel my insides clench up in fear. Will he hate me for what I did in the arena? _Annie. It's okay. Finnick loves you. You love him. _ I shake my head at this, even though I know it's true. "But he wasn't there with me. He wouldn't die for me," I say, and Blake just laughs at me. _Yes he would, Annie. And you would die for him. _"But I would die for you, too." He just nods at me. _I know you would, Annie. But I have to tell you something before I go. _ "You said you would stay." _I know. But Finnick is here now. Annie, listen closely. _ I smile at him, willing to listen to anything he says. _I'm dead, Annie._ Somewhere deep inside of me, I know that he is. I know that he'll never be here with me again. I know. But I love being inside this dreamland, this far away universe where Blake is still here, where he still loves me, where he's still alive. Where I don't have to think about his head on the ground, his eyes vacant and unblinking, his arms motionless and still. Where I don't have to remember the faces of the nine children I killed. Where I don't have to live without him.

"I know," I say quietly. "I know." With that, Blake is gone and the only person standing in front of me has sea green eyes and ruffled hair and a crinkled shirt. It looks like he hasn't slept in weeks, but my heart still jumps at the sight of him. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. My heart is chanting his name, even if Blake is dead and his eyes have no life and his body is still inside a wooden box. It's Finnick.

"Annie," he croaks, and I can see that he's about to cry. "Annie." He says my name like a prayer and I smile a little bit despite the fact that Blake isn't here with me.

"Finnick," I whisper, looking down at my feet.

"Who were you talking to?" Finnick asks patiently, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Blake," I say, and he frowns so deeply it screws up his face a little. "I know Blake is dead," I say. "It just makes me feel better to pretend that he's not."

"Annie, do you know how long you've been here?"

"No, I don't even know where I am. Where am I?" I ask, my brow knitting in confusion.

"You're in the Capitol. You won the Games four days ago," he explains, his frown growing even deeper. "Before we even talk about the arena, I just want to let you know that it gets better."

"That's easy for you to say," I spit, and I know I shouldn't be directing my anger at Finnick. He isn't responsible for the sword that cut Blake's head from his body. He isn't responsible for Blake being snatched from me like a child from his mother's arms. It isn't his fault. But there's so much anger. So much anger. So much heartbreak. When I think about Blake's head lying on the ground, fury rushes through me like a tidal wave and I remember why I went into the arena in the first place. To kill. Blake's death makes me want to kill. Kill. "You didn't love your district partner."

"Annie, hush," Finnick says harshly. I glare at him and the fury pounds in my head, in my heart, in my veins, in my muscles, which are coiled like a snake before it strikes. "Don't act like you're the only person who's come out of the arena broken. The arena breaks people, Annie. It broke me. I know you loved Blake and I know it hurts, I know it does. I wish I could make it go away, I wish you and I could be back at the Academy together, I wish Blake could be here, even if it meant losing you to him. But he's not. It would be a lie if you told me that you didn't know in your heart that you would win," he says, his voice low and dangerous. I've never been afraid of Finnick, but in this moment, I'm terrified.

"I loved him, Finnick," my voice broke a little bit, but I'm determined to be strong. "I loved him and I couldn't save him."

"You knew you would win, Annie. You knew it." I hang my head, because I am ashamed. I loved Blake. I would've given my life for his at the drop of a hat. I would've done anything in the world to save him. But somewhere deep in my heart, I knew that the Capitol loved me more. I knew that they wanted me to win. I knew it. "Think about your life before the Games. What was your goal?"

"To win the Games," I whisper, because I'm ashamed of the goal now. No matter how much I wanted it before, the bloodstains will never be washed from my body.

"Exactly. Now, please, just for a moment be thankful that you are alive," he says. "Because twenty-three children had to die for you to be here."

"I killed nine of them," I whisper. Most people don't kill more than four or five. I killed so many more, so many more. But Finnick frowns at me, and I know what he's thinking.

"Annie, I killed twelve. You did what you had to do," he says, and his voice is a little gentler this time. I wish Blake were here with us, like before the Games. I wish we could all just be on the beach together, drinking and swimming and laughing and being young and carefree. But he's not, and it hurts.

_With every move you made, every look you've given me, every word you've said, you've kept the world turning._ I put my hands over my ears and laugh shakily. I don't want to hear his words anymore. His words are the damp earth covering my grave.

_I'll just be glad I spent the last few days with the love of my life_.

I start to cry. Finnick touches my shoulder gently, and it only makes me sob more. I miss him. I miss his smile and I miss the way his voice wrapped around my name like a caress. I miss him.

_She was my best friend for so long, and then one day, I looked at her and I realized I would never be able to see anyone else again. _

It doesn't matter than he's dead and I'm alive because my heart is made of stone and ice. I don't want to tell Finnick, but I already feel dead.

_It's always been you, Annie._

His words echo in the chambers of my heart, and I know that he's dead, I know that he's gone. The words are the only thing I can cling to, like a piece of driftwood in a hurricane, but they're burying me and suffocating me and pushing me off the edge of a cliff.

"Annie," Finnick prods. "Annie, it's okay. Everything you did in there was okay. Loving him was okay." At his gentleness, at his kindness, I lose it. I let a sob tear through my throat because I don't want to do this. I don't want to remember him for the rest of my life because it hurts so much. Every smile, every touch, every word. They're all gone forever. He's gone forever. My entire body shakes like the earthquake that destroyed my hell.

"It hurts so much," I choke out between sobs. "It hurts so much," I repeat, rocking back and forth, letting the sobs tear through my body like the axe I used to dismember the beast. "I'm a monster, I'm a monster and he should've lived because he wasn't a monster like me or the beasts or a flood or an earthquake. He should've lived. Not me, not me, not me, not me, not me," I cry, rhythmically rocking back and forth, sobbing his name, wishing for it all to end. Wishing for some kind of release from this pain that stabs my heart, that stabs my every move. It's like the prongs of his trident, but instead of the girl from District 6, they're inching their way through my heart, until I'm dead and my heart is ripped out of my chest. Perhaps that would be better. I would be with him again.

Finnick is reading my mind. He shakes his head at me, and I can barely look at him. "Annie, if you would have died, it would've killed me. And it would've killed him."

"But what about me? Does anyone care what kills me?" I sob, and I know I'm being selfish. I know that if Blake were sitting here in this cold, white hospital room, he would be wishing for death. Finnick would be sitting next to him, praying for God to end this world so he didn't have to live in it anymore.

"Annie. Look at me," he says sternly, but I don't look up. "Annie Michelle Cresta. Look at me." When I look up, his eyes are greenish blue and they are filled with tears. I don't see Finnick cry that often. One single tear drops out of his right eye, and he doesn't bother to wipe it away. I lean forward and brush it away with my thumb. It reminds me of all the times Blake did the same to me. Finnick is still looking at me, studying my every move, memorizing me. "I love you. I have always loved you. Blake loved you. He loved you so much. Never ever forget that, Annie. Don't you dare take his love for granted, because it was a gift."

"It hurts, Finnick," I whisper, and I can hear his voice in my ears again. _I want you to know that I've always loved you, no matter what. _ I choke on a sob that rips through my throat, and I don't want to do this. I don't want to remember him anymore. "If this is love, I don't want it. It hurts so much," I cry, and I curl myself into a ball on the bed.

"It was real, Annie," Finnick murmurs as he moves to sit on the edge of my bed. "It was so real."

"I don't want to remember anymore," I say, sobbing. Finnick slides an arm around me, and I lean into his shoulder, grateful for the warmth and the human contact. I have not touched another person, other than Blake, since before the arena. Except for when I killed the beast. And the girl from 7. And the boy from 12. And when I spit on the boy from 7's wounds.

I'm a monster. I'm a monster that came straight from hell.

_Annie Cresta is the best person I've ever known, no matter how many people she's killed._

I cry until there are no tears left in my body and it feels like all of the blood has been drained from my body. When I'm done, I look up at Finnick. He's been watching me the whole time, I realize. I don't have the energy to care.

"Finnick, why have I been in the hospital so long?" I ask, frowning. "I'm not hurt. I should have done my interviews days ago." The second his eyes skip away from mine, I know there's something wrong. "Just tell me," I shoot at him. He glances down at me and he looks tired.

"Look, Annie," he begins, and I hear resignation in his voice. "You have no idea how popular your Games were. They loved you and they loved your relationship with Blake. The Capitolites were petitioning for two victors," he says and my mouth falls open. Two victors. They were asking for us to win together.

"Why didn't it happen? How close did it come?" I ask, and my voice is hard. I almost don't recognize it.

"Close. It came close. Snow was so close to letting it happen. But he didn't, at the last minute. He decided that it would send a bad message to the country. Act like you're in love with your district partner and bam, you've beaten the system. Anyone could do it after that if they were convincing enough," he tries to finish his speech, but I'm too angry to let him.

"Act? How the hell was that an act? I loved him!" I almost shout, and Finnick raises an eyebrow at me like he's patronizing me.

"Annie, why the hell are you yelling that at me? I know it wasn't an act. Everyone knows it wasn't an act. Calm down," Finnick says gently, holding his hands up in a reconciliatory gesture. "Anyway, he decided against it. Blake died a few hours later." He looks down at his hands and his face is full of guilt. "I'm so sorry for what happened, Annie. I'm so sorry. I know I'm being hard on you, but I'm only doing it because I know you can take it. The harder I push, the better you are."

"I don't want to be pushed anymore. Blake dying pushed me enough," I reply, my eyes downcast.

"I know you don't want it. You need it," he shoots back at me, and even though my voice was gentle, his is not. "The audience lost their minds over Blake's death. They lost their minds when you reacted that way. A lot of citizens here were angry with the president after they heard he wouldn't allow two victors. He's managed to quell it, though, for the time being. Now, we do have a problem. You've exposed how destructive the Games can be. You've showed the districts how heartbreaking it is to see life ripped away right in front of you."

"Are you kidding me? I killed those people with a smile on my face! How did I do that?" I ask, and even though I feel dead inside, I can't help but be curious. I haven't heard from the outside world in a while, and I need to know.

"Everyone loved you so much, Ann. You were so brave and strong and you led the playing field since day 1 of the Games. When they saw you break after Blake's death, it opened their eyes. Not much, but a little bit. And it caused a problem for the president."

"How should we fix it?" I breathe.

"We need to make sure you say the right things. You wanted to compete in the Games ever since you were a child and falling in love with Blake didn't change your dream, it made you more determined. For you, killing the other tributes was easy because it got you and Blake one step closer to victory. You don't regret their deaths. You were glad they died, because they died so you could live, and it was Blake's dream for you to win. Always, always, always remind the districts that killing was easy for you. Even if it wasn't," he adds, before I can interrupt. "And always mention how glad you are to be alive, because Blake would've wanted it that way. Mention Blake a lot, tell the audience how much you loved him, but do not under any circumstances say that you wish you could've died for him. The audience will be reminded of the president not allowing two victors, and it will displease him. Most of all, Annie, and this is important: they think you're a bit crazy," he finishes and it looks like he's afraid he's hurting my feelings. But I just laugh, and it's only a little bit bitter.

"That's the one thing they are right about. I am crazy. Poor, mad Annie Cresta who entered the Games a confident killer and came out a heartbroken wreck. I am crazy, Finnick," I say. My voice sounds wild as I say it and I'm not sure I want Finnick to agree with me.

I see Blake in my dreams, I pretend he's there when he's not, because it's easier to cope that way, I cover my ears and cry, I laugh at things I shouldn't laugh at, I zone out for hours at a time, and I go to sleep at night only to find that there's no relief in waking.

"You're not crazy, Annie," Finnick tells me. I look up at him, every muscle in my body tense and I feel like I'm ready to attack. "The Games does this to everyone. You were just more vocal about it, and no one can blame you. Especially with your situation," he explains. "You're not mad. But for the time being, when you're on stage, remember what you have to be: someone who likes to kill, who is unsettled, who is glad to be alive because your love would've wanted it. You can put the first two together, I think. Someone who is dangerous and mad. That's good, I think. Just make sure you cry enough before you go on stage that you don't do it up there. Cry yourself out like you did today so you aren't panicking and talking to people who aren't there."

"I feel like Blake would hate this, me having to pretend for them. He would want me to be as upset as I need to be, because I'm justified to. He would understand, but I feel like it's an insult to his memory," I say, and when I say his name, tears swell up in my eyes and I can't stand it. I can't stand talking about him being a memory when just a week ago he was so alive and so strong. I choke a little bit at the thought, because it's not right that he's gone. It will never feel right.

"I know," Finnick sighs. "But I think Blake would understand that this is what you need to do. Blake only ever wanted the best for you. He never intended on getting out of that arena alive." It's my turn to sigh, because I know it's true. When I went in, I was planning on coming out. I knew I was going to come out. Blake never even considered it.

"I wish he were here so he could tell me that it'll be okay," I admit, feeling a little bit bad because Finnick is standing right in front of me, helping me as much as he can, still loving me despite what I've done. I look up at him beseechingly. "I'm sorry, Finnick. I'm sorry for doing this to you. I should never have dated him or fallen in love with him or done this with him—"

"Stop, Annie," he interrupts. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'll love you no matter what."

"Just—just give me time. I can't think about anyone like that now, not after I saw Blake's head rolling around on the ground, not after I lost him, not after we shared the arena, not after I had to run from everything because it all reminded me of him, not after I swam in water full of blood and full of Blake's head, not after I stabbed the girl from 2's hands into the ground before I killed her, not after I stared into the girl from 7's eyes while I stabbed her, not after I cut the beast's hands and feet and fingers off, not after I killed that little boy from 12, not after I saw the 1s cut up, not after I saw blood coming out of windows and trees and eyes and fingernails—"

"Annie!" Finnick yells, and I realize I've curled into a ball and put my hands over my ears as I counted my sins and all the things I have to be sorry for and everything I'm running from. "Annie," he says in a gentler tone, and I notice how shaky he is. I notice there are tears in his eyes. I don't know what to do.

_Just like in training, Annie. You and me._

The words materialize in my mind, bouncing around the empty chambers and recesses and lessening my pain bit by bit by agonizing bit. When I think about Blake's forehead against mine and the smell of wind on his skin and the shine of his eyes and the curve of his body diving into the water, the suffocating weight pressing down on my chest eases. It doesn't lessen by much. But it's enough to give me hope.


	27. Chapter 27

**Hey guys, I know it's been a little while since I updated. I've had a lot of really great suggestions for the story, so I've been trying to incorporate them as much as I can.**

**To my mystery guest reviewer: Your review made me smile like a maniac. That truly, truly means the world to me as a writer and I'm so glad that you're reading this story.**

**Moriah98: I feel like I have to incorporate Annie's "insanity" into the story, because it's a bit of a prerequisite of the story. But don't worry, it won't be as extreme as some of the other stories about her insanity. I didn't want her to be overly insane either, because she is such a strong character. For me, I want her "insanity" to be more shock, denial, and grief, rather than true insanity. I hope that's an idea that will make you stick with the story, because I'm like minded as you when it comes to her going crazy. One last thing I should address for you is Annie and Finnick getting back together. Don't worry about it just being her going back to Finnick for comfort, because I wrote this story for Annie and Finnick. I'm in love with their story, so I've always wanted her to be with Finnick, regardless of the love triangle. It's less a comfort thing and more Annie needs to realize that she was always meant to be with Finnick and that it's okay for her to be with him. Finnick won't be her second choice, per say. Don't worry! Also, your other idea-probably going to happen :) Thanks for reviewing!**

**I want Annie to be making some progress, because as I mentioned, I'm not a big fan of her going batshit crazy ;) Soooo without any further ado, here's chapter 27! **

When I wake up, the screams are all I can hear. The bright white lights pull me from a dreamland that was more like hell, with a boy laying on the ground, his head feet away from his body. I loved him. The dreamland had a girl with brown eyes that stared at me defiantly, and her eyes hid everywhere. Her eyes were in the trees. They were in the windows. They climbed into the recesses of my mind, their clear brown color ran through the river of the hell. They watched me from the top of the white tower. When the brown of her eyes faded away, they were replaced with the cold grey of the 12 year old's. The midnight black of his hair darkened the sky and every cloud, every street, every light was the color of his eyes. Grey like storm clouds on the ocean.

"Blake, Blake, where are you?" I'm screaming, because I don't want to be in this white room because it reminds me of the tower in hell, and I don't want to see the eyes of the children I killed. But it seems that I'm going to see them every night until the day I die. "Blake," I sob. "Please, help me."

_Annie. _ His voice whispers and I look up. His eyes are clearer than a cloudless sky and my screams slowly subside as I picture them, alight with happiness, shining with the kind of goodness that can't be measured. I close my eyes, trying to cling to this image, trying to remember the last time I saw him, the last time I kissed him, the last time his hand skimmed my hair, the last time his lips wrapped around my name, gentler than the wind cutting across the surface of the ocean. One image rises to the surface of my mind, and the ghost of a smile touches my lips as I remember.

_We separate on the gray streets in hell. I look up at him, terrified that it will be the last time I see him. He smiles down at me, and touches his forehead to mine. "You and me, Cresta. I love you. No matter what," he whispers. In that moment, I think he knows what will happen. But as we walk in opposite directions, I can't stop myself from looking back at him, walking tall and proud, completely unafraid. But before he turns the street corner, he looks over his shoulder at me. When he smiles at me, there's nothing but happiness, nothing but joy in his smile. In his eyes. _

With that last smile, he told me more than anyone ever had before.

_If it comes down to it, I'll do anything to keep you safe in that arena._

_I don't want to do this without you._

When the tears come, I don't resist them. When I picture his face in my mind, I don't try and push it away. I don't pretend that he is here. I just let myself feel every ounce of his death, every ounce of the love I felt for him, the love I still feel for him. I let myself absorb the only reality that I have right now, and that is that Blake is gone. He's gone, and he's never coming back. I will never hear his deep laugh that sounded like thunder. I will never see the way his lips, full and wide and soft, would stretch into a smile that could light up all of Panem. I will never again feel his body on mine, I will never see anyone look as beautiful as he did when he threw a trident.

The sobs take over my body as I remember every word he ever said to me since we were children. I think for the millionth time that I don't think I can do this. I know I have Finnick here to help me. I have Mags. But I don't have Blake, and it's his smile and his words and his help and his hands that I'm craving the most. I don't have him; I'll never have him again.

I let oblivion take me. It comes in the form of grey eyes and midnight hair and a beast that has black eyes and a small boy with a knife through his heart and a girl with scars through her hands, a bloody gash ripping her back open. Oblivion comes to me in the form of a grey dam; it comes in the shape of an obelisk stretching into the sky. It comes to me in the curve of a river, iridescent blue like his eyes, water breaking around an island in the middle; an island where stars and mountains and waves sweep up dreams and wash them out to sea, where they'll sink until they reach the bottom of the ocean and time takes them, as it takes everything else.

"Annie, you'll be fine," Finnick says, and I look at him unsteadily. I cried so much earlier today that I don't think it's physically possible to cry anymore. But there's no telling that I won't lose it and scream bloody murder on that stage. "It will be hard to watch your kills, Ann. But just pretend that it's someone else's Games that you're watching. Now, I need you to listen to me carefully," Finnick tells me sternly, and I know he's grown familiar with my recent habit of letting my mind wander for days at a time. I look at him, and apparently, he sees that I'm lucid enough to understand. "When they start to show Blake on the screen, I do not want you to watch. The good moments, maybe. But when they show the bad moments, you are not to watch. Do you understand?"

It's the sixth day since I was pulled from hell, and according the doctor that finally materialized, I've shown improvement. But I disagree. I try not to talk to Blake anymore, because it scares Finnick and it makes Mags cry. I try not to count my sins in front of them. But when I'm alone in that white room, I unleash everything and I'm the only person left that can bear this pain. And I don't want it. I think of Finnick telling me that I should be thankful that I'm here, because twenty-three children had to die for me to be here, and I can't help but agree with him. But his words don't make the faces of the nine children I killed disappear from my dreams. His words don't make the vision of the girl from District 1, cut up into pieces on the ground, vanish from my consciousness. His words don't make the beast with black eyes and long fangs fade away into the mist. His words don't lessen the ache in my chest, because Blake was one of the twenty-three that had to die for me to live. I'm not worthy of it.

"Annie," I hear someone say. I look around the room for the voice and see that it belongs to a boy with sea green eyes. I give him a small smile.

"Yeah," I respond, and the boy brushes a piece of tangled hair back from my face. I shudder a little, because it makes me think of Blake's hands, strong but gentle, lethal but soft. A little smile comes to my lips, because I'm remembering the feel of his hands on my body, his hands on my neck, in my hair. I would give up the entire world to feel those hands again. I laugh, thinking of how his hands could strangle someone or fall on a person over and over until they were just a limp a body. I think of how many times those hands beat me until I was unconscious. But I remember, more than anything, how their pressure felt on the small of my back, how they were so large his thumb could rest on my jaw while the rest of his hand held my head steady. How they would find mine in the dark. I let out a small giggle. I would spend every day for the rest of my life in that hell just to feel his hands again.

I'm sure I look insane to Finnick. I don't care.

"Did you hear me? I told you that can't watch when Blake dies during the recap. Do you understand me?" Finnick asks, and I look around the room to see that Mags is also here and so is my prep team. I wonder when they came. I wonder how long I was gone.

"Okay," I say, and my voice sounds vague and dreamy. I just want to disappear again. I want to fall into a dream or a memory, anything other than the place I am right now. I want to go to a place where Blake is still alive and I'm not a murderer.

When Finnick takes my face between his hands, I look up at him. I need something to hold onto, when I know that I'll be seeing him again soon, I'll be looking at the boy that loved me again. I need somebody to tell me that it'll be alright.

"Annie Cresta," Finnick whispers, and he leans his head into mine. I inhale sharply, because his forehead is about to touch mine and I can't do it I can't do it I can't do it. Right when my mind is about to panic and summon images of a blue eyed boy resting his forehead gently against mine, Finnick realizes what he did wrong and backs up a little. I take deep breaths, and Finnick holds my head steady. His eyes are calm and steadfast and my heart lurches. Our eyes hold each other's, and while mine are panicked and frantic, his are as steady and consistent as the waves rushing towards shore. As his eyes bore into mine, my heart does something it hasn't done for what feels like a thousand years.

"Finnick," I whisper back. "I've missed you." The four words are small and weak, but a smile spreads across his face and it's so wide and so beautiful that I have to smile too.

"I've missed you more, Ann," he says, his voice quiet and low and beautiful like music. _Meet me down by the whale watch._

"Were my Games better than yours?" I ask, and even though my Games will haunt me for the rest of my life, I feel an old, ingrained urge to bury my emotions and bury how devastated I truly am. Finnick laughs a little bit, and a let a small smile creep across my lips.

"No one's Games will ever be better than mine," he says.

"Liar," I say, and I let out a laugh that sounds unsettled and disturbed. "I looked so much better than you. More finesse. More showmanship." Finnick smiles at me, and gently runs his hand through my hair again. He looks uncertain. I'm truly starved for human contact, and this is Finnick. My best friend. Somewhere deep in my heart, I know I love him as more. But I'm not ready for that yet. Not when every moment of my unconscious and waking life is dominated by a boy with black hair and clear blue eyes the color of the river in hell. I take a deep breathe.

_Finnick loves you, Annie. _ Blake's voice is deep and rumbling in my mind, and I smile a little. All of the words he's said to me about Finnick echo around in my mind, trying to help me make sense of this mess.

_You know that I don't care whether you're with Finnick or me. You know I'm willing to die for you, to protect you._

_I told him that he had better treat you well._

I look up at Finnick, and I smile at him.

"You're Finnick," I say, and he looks confused. "You're Finnick Odair, and I'm Annie Cresta. I showed you how to make nets, and you taught me how to kill someone with my hands. You've been my best friend since I was eleven. You used to be my boyfriend," and he winces a little, but his smile stays. Everyone else in the room fades away into the fog that takes up my mind, and all I can see is his smiles. His eyes. "You love me."

There are tears in his eyes as he responds, "Yes, Annie. I love you."

"You would never hurt me," I say, and he smiles at me widely.

"Never," he responds. I frown a little bit, and he picks my chin up with his hand. "What is it?"

"Finnick," I begin. "I loved Blake. I loved him so much," my voice breaks on these words and a couple of stray tears drip down my face. "But something in my heart is telling me that I loved you just as much. Before hell happened, before my life was just a collection of nightmares full of dams and towers and rivers and islands and heads. I loved you just as much as him. Did you know that?"

"Yes, Annie," he responds, and his smile has faded a little bit.

"Do you think I could still love you like that? Someday?" I ask Finnick this because I've been trying to stop talking to Blake, even though Blake is honest with me and he understands people. Or, he did. When his head was still attached to his shoulders.

I ask Finnick because I need someone else to bear my pain, someone else to tell me what I'm feeling so I don't have to make sense of it. I've already seen too much that I have to make sense of, and I don't want to deal with my heart right now. Not when it's broken. I already have to deal with my mind. My soul. My humanity. I feel like all three were ripped from me.

When Finnick meets my eyes, I know that he is looking into my soul. My mind. My heart. I would get that same feeling when Blake would study me, looking into my emotions and my intentions and my regrets. Finnick is searching for something inside of my eyes that will tell him that I still love him.

I wonder what it is that he sees. Is it Kylie's wide brown eyes, staring back at him defiantly like they did at me before I killed her? Were they the boy from 12's eyes, grey as the mountains in Dstrict 2? Were they full of fear and lost hope and a wish that this had never happened? Does he see the pair from District 1, cut up by the monster from 7? Does he see the girl from 2's hands stabbed into the ground as an axe is driven into her back? Does he see the white tower crumbling to the ground? Does he see knives driven into the grass while the earth shakes like a child being sent to the slaughter?

Does he see Blake, a person so good and kind that he should never have been there? Someone that was too good for the Academy, too good for the Games, too good for Panem? Does he see Blake's head being sliced from his body, his blood spurting in every direction, staining the pavement, the buildings, the beast? Does he see Blake's mouth, still screaming for Annie?

"Yes, Annie," Finnick says gently. My eyes slip back into focus again, and the sea green of his are filled to the brim with tears. Before I can respond, he pulls me into a hug that is so tight and so suffocating that it should be unpleasant. But it feels like the ocean in the midst of summer, warm and salty and freeing. It feels like a wave during a hurricane. It feels like diving into the abyss. It feels like the stars shimmering over the ocean of District 4, infinite and so unimaginably vast that you lost yourself in them.

Finnick doesn't let me go for a long time. Before he does, though, he puts his mouth next to my ear and whispers, "I see you, Annie. I still see you."


	28. Chapter 28

**Here's Chapter 28! The chapters after this one should be longer, because I'm just trying to show Annie's struggle with herself and what happened in the arena. We'll get back Games stuff and Annie/Finnick soon enough :) Love you all! Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

"Hey Annie," Julius says hesitantly, like he's afraid to speak. Him and the rest of my prep team look at me like I'm a rabid dog and I just avoid their eyes.

"Hello," I respond, mimicking his tone of voice. Finnick told me that people would be scared of me when they saw me. But I didn't think my prep team would be included. I just hope Lanie treats me the same, as I became fond of her before the Games. As my prep team circles me, I try not to think about Blake. Earlier this morning, in what has become my routine, I sobbed and scream for about five hours—or so Finnick told me. He fell asleep in the cot next to me last night and woke around 3 A.M. to my screams, and he said that it lasted until 8. I don't remember much of it besides a searing pain where my heart is—or used to be—and wishing that I could swim in the river one more time with Blake. Wishing we could wash our hair in the rain one more time. Wishing we could tell each other secrets over a bottle of rum one more time. Climb the white tower one more time. Watch him press the prongs of his trident against Kylie's chest one more time, deadly and powerful.

I don't know how I'm supposed to do this for the rest of my life. I don't know if I can. Missing him is too hard, loving him is too hard, but I know I'm never going to stop. Even if in the future I go back to Finnick, I'll wake up every morning and scream for Blake. Before the Games, I might've been disgusted at my selfishness. Now, I can't help but think that I've deserved it after everything I've lost.

"Annie!" Lauren squeaks, and I look at her. My eyes probably look vacant, because my mind is scattered. My mind has been scattered ever since my eyes fell on Blake's severed head rolling around on the pavement. I put my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sounds of his voice. It isn't Blake this time, but the boy from District 2. The beast.

His voice is crawling through the subconscious of my mind, nasty and rough and brutish.

_"Little Annie" the beast taunts, and when I look up at him Blake's blood is spattered all across his face and neck. Fury rises up in me stronger than the adrenaline that pushed me to this street block, stronger than the wave of a tsunami, stronger than the wall of a hurricane. The beast killed Blake. It's his fault that he was ripped from me too soon, his life stolen away from him, from me, like it was as small as a piece of candy, sitting in the window of the pier's sweet shop. I realize that the screams are coming from me, and I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. So I run at the beast, but I'm not strong enough. Not now, not right after I saw Blake's head lying on the ground, not since I saw his strong body motionless and still and _dead_. No, I am not strong right now. But I run at him anyways, and after I knock him down, he gets up and he throws me to the ground like I am a rag doll. Perhaps I am._

_"Little Annie, look at you. You look a little crazy with lover boy's blood on your face," he taunts, holding me down by my wrists. I try to squirm out of his grasp, but I can't keep my head from rolling to the side, I can't keep my eyes from clinging to Blake's mutilated body, I can't keep myself from wanting to die right now._

_"Why didn't you just kill me?" I spit out, and he jams an arm into my throat. He could've killed me while I was screaming next to Blake's body, but he didn't._

_"I wanted to have a little fun while his blood was still on your skin," he snarls, and I let an ear-piercing scream shatter the air. Two slaps me across the face and punches me in the stomach, he beats me until I'm bloody and bruised, and all I can think is that Blake is not here, Blake is not here, Blake is not here. If Blake were here, this beast, this monster, this animal would be dead. Blake is not here. Blake is not here._

_District 2 is still punching me and kicking me, and I'm reminded of all the times Blake would do this to me while we trained for the Games. The Games that killed Blake. The Games that took him from me like he was some insignificant fly on the wall._

_I scream again, and this time when 2 shoves his hand over my mouth, I bite it, thinking of Blake, thinking he would want me to fight, he would want me to survive._

_But District 2 is bigger than me._

_"You said you needed nothing but your hands to kill, 4," he whispers and fight the bile that is rising in my throat. I spit in his face instead, and it's a mixture of blood and saliva. I think he might've chipped one of my teeth._

_When he starts to pull down his pants, everything starts to move in slow motion. I remember all the times he told me he wanted to feel my hands on him, every time he undressed me with his eyes. I scream, but he's got me pinned down. When he pushes my pants down, the tears are flowing freely from my eyes. If Blake were alive and here with me, I might care about how the audience would perceive my tears. I might try and stay strong. But Blake is not here with me. They took him away from me._

_If Blake were alive and here with me, this would not be happening._

_When the beast starts to push himself on me, I hear a voice in my mind. _Fight, Annie. Fight. Do what I would do if I were there. _The beast is panting in my face from exertion, his hips moving around like an animal's. With Blake's words fresh in my head, I bring my head up fast and ram it into his. He falls off of me for a moment, but it is all I need. I kick him in the groin as fast and hard as I can, and scramble to my feet. In just a second, my axe is falling on his fingers, cutting them off and his screams are the most beautiful sound in the world. When my axe falls on his toes, I smile wildly. I love how easy flesh is to cut through._

_When his hands fly away from his body, I scream, "For Blake!" When I bring the axe down on his feet, I scream, "For Blake!" And after I've cut his arms and legs from his body, when my axe falls on his head and his blood squirts across my face, I scream, "For Blake!"_

When I first start to scream, I don't know where I am. I shriek, my voice shrill enough to break glass. Sobs are tearing their way through my body, and I don't know what to do. Everything is coming into focus and I try to choke out Blake's name, try to summon him, but it won't come out. "Finnick," I say instead. "Finnick, please come here. Finnick," I cry, tears running hot down my face and soaking the robe I'm wearing. "FINNICK! FINNICK!" I hear a door slam and something fuzzy materializes in front of me, but I see a flash of sea green and throw myself at it. "Finnick," I sob. "Finnick, what happened to me?"

I want to close my eyes and put my hands over my ears but instead I look at the eyes that have grounded me and kept me sane since I was eleven. The eyes that loved me perhaps even before Blake did. Eyes that I need right now.

"Annie," he murmurs, and I try and focus on his eyes. "Annie," he repeats, and I put my hands over my ears. I need to know. I need to know. I need to know.

"Finnick, do you have your mentor's footage of the Games?" I whisper, and my voice is so quiet it's almost inaudible. I sound nothing like the girl that volunteered at the Reaping. I sound weak.

"Yes," he answers, and when he tries to stand up to leave, I cling to him. I sob and tell him to take me with him, and he picks me up easily with one hand and carries me like a child to his room, uttering apologies to my prep team as we walk out. "Listen, Annie. Don't tell anyone I allowed you to watch this; I could get in serious trouble." I nod at him, because I'm afraid if I speak I'll sound like a weak shadow of the girl I used to be.

When he puts the Games on, he knows exactly what I need to see.

When I see Blake's head fly from his body, a scream escapes my mouth involuntarily and I sob until my body is numb, but my eyes don't leave the screen. Finnick is here. I can feel his arm around my shoulders.

When I see the boy from 2 fall, then take me down, I close my eyes. When I open them again, he is on top of me and I am staring at Blake's body and I'm screaming, screaming, screaming.

Next to me, Finnick is sobbing. He pulls my body towards his and my head is crushed to his chest. We cry together, because Blake is dead and the boy from 2 took everything I had left even after I thought I lost it all and Finnick loves me and I love Finnick and Blake had to die and I loved him and the memory of the monster forcing himself on me is just another in the collection of moments that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

We cry together, his hand in my hair, the other holding me tightly to his body. My arms are wrapped tightly around his torso, and through the grief and the disgust and feeling of dirt covering my body, I know that I still love him. I need him. So I let the shame spread through my body like lactic acid and adrenaline and blood and I cling to him, grateful that he is here, grateful that I'm alive, grateful that Blake didn't have to see, grateful that he still loves me.

The prep team, thankfully, hadn't started my makeup. They had already styled my hair, so they only had to fix what Finnick messed up while we cried together. I try not to cringe at their hands touching me, but it's difficult. Finnick stays with me the whole time, looking on the verge of tears, but smiling at me anyway. I try not to let my mind wander. Instead, I stare at Finnick. I let my eyes skim across his face, his chest, his body. His hair is messy and there are deep purple circles under his eyes. I can tell he hasn't been sleeping. His eyes aren't full of light and laughter and happiness like they usually are. They are dark green and full of sorrow. Stress. Grief. And when he looks at me, they're full of love.

His clothes are disheveled. He's still wearing the black t-shirt with the large 4 on the front and back, the one he has to wear while mentoring. I take him in like a drug, unable to get enough. When Finnick is here, everything is a little better. Blake's words echo around in my mind less, and the pressure in my chest lightens. The doctors let him stay in my hospital room because they said I was less insane when he was there. I would have to agree with that statement.

I smile at him, and I'm reminded of the time I first saw him after his own Games. I was waiting on the beach, and when he smiled at me, it didn't touch his eyes. I wonder if I look like that, worn and haunted and tired.

No, Annie. You're much more. You're mad.

But Finnick smiles back at me, and when I see it, the ache in my heart lessens slightly. I reach my hand out to him when I hear a voice._ I'm so glad you won, Annie. I'm so glad. _I frown at the voice. _I always knew you would win. _The voice doesn't sound bitter at all. The voice sounds happy. It sounds free. Blake. _Finnick makes you feel this way for a reason. _You made me feel this way. _I know, baby. _I cover my ears with my hands and laugh shakily, because the word is so sweet on his tongue and I'm two seconds from breaking down. _It was meant to happen this way. _No. No. You weren't supposed to die. You were never supposed to die. I never wanted you to die. _Regardless, Annie. I did. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. _I'm not. Neither is Finnick. We wanted you to come out alive. _

_I love you, Annie._

_I love you, Annie._

_I love you, Annie._

_I love you, Annie._

The words echo in my mind four times, and I count them, hoping to hear them forever. I heard them so many times when he was alive, and I'll never hear them again.

When the darkness fades, the words start to echo again, but Blake's deep, rumbly voice is gone. The room is empty, and I'm curled up in the fetal position on the floor. I'm screaming, but I can't hear it. I only hear a low voice murmuring to me, whispering in my ear, a voice that sounds like music and sugar and the ocean.

"I'm here, Annie, I love you," he murmurs, "I love you, Annie." The words end and start again, repeating themselves over and over, like a broken record. But I don't want the record to stop. "I'm here, Annie. I love you, Annie," the voice says.


End file.
